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GEORGE    SAND'S    NOVELS 


l^anlij)  Liijrarp  ^^tition 


THE    BAGPIPERS 


:-^    Vip\ ,  rcJfiJ''- 


LOlJI 


"  Thereupon  he  blew  into  his  flute,'' 


Copyright,  i8go, 

By  Roberts  Brothers. 


University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


mait^iAT 


TO   M.  EUGENE   LAMBERT. 


My  dear  Child, — As  you  like  to  hear  me  relate  the 
tales  told  by  the  peasants  at  our  veillees,  —  I  mean  the 
watch-nights  of  nn'  youth,  when  I  had  time  to  listen  to 
them,  —  I  shall  try  to  recall  the  story  of  Etienne  Depardieu, 
and  piece  together  the  scattered  fragments  of  it  still  re- 
maining in  my  memory.  It  was  told  to  me  by  the  man 
himself  during  several  of  the  hreyage  evenings,  —  a  name 
given,  as  3'ou  know,  to  the  late  hours  of  the  night  spent  in 
grinding  hemp,  when  those  present  relate  their  village 
chronicles.  It  is  long  since  Pere  Depardieu  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just,  and  he  was  quite  old  when  he  told  me 
this  stor}'  of  the  naive  adventures  of  his  3'outh.  For  this 
reason  1  shall  tr}'  to  let  him  speak  for  himself,  imitating 
his  manner  as  closely  as  I  can.  You  will  not  blame  me 
for  insisting  on  so  doing,  because  you  know  from  experi- 
ence that  the  thoughts  and  emotions  of  a  peasant  cannot 
be  rendered  in  our  own  st3de  of  language  without  making 
them  unnatural  and  giving  them  a  tone  of  even  shocking 
affectation. 

You  also  know  by  experience,  that  the  peasantr}'  guess 
or  comprehend  much  more  than  we  believe  them  capable 
of  understanding ;  and  3'ou  have  often  been  struck  with 
their  sudden  insight,  which,  even  in  matters  of  art,  has  an 
appearance  of  revelation.  If  I  were  to  tell  j^ou  in  my 
language  and  yours  certain  things  which  3'ou  have  heard 

22G394 


ir  To  M.  Eugene  Lambert. 

and  understood  in  theirs,  you  would  find  those  very  things 
so  unhke  what  is  natural  to  these  people  that  you  would 
accuse  me  of  unconsciously  putting  something  of  my  own 
into  the  relation,  and  of  attributing  to  the  peasantry  re- 
flections and  feelings  which  they  could  not  have.  It 
suffices  to  introduce  into  the  expression  of  their  ideas 
a  single  word  that  is  not  in  their  vocabulary  to  raise  a 
doubt  as  to  whether  the  idea  itself  emanated  from  them. 
But  when  we  listen  to  their  speech,  we  at  once  observe 
that  although  they  may  not  have,  like  us,  a  choice  of 
words  suited  to  every  shade  of  thought,  yet  they  assuredly 
have  words  enough  to  formulate  what  they  think  and  to 
describe  what  strikes  their  senses. 

Therefore  it  is  not,  as  some  have  reproachfully  declared, 
for  the  petty  pleasure  of  producing  a  style  hitherto  unused 
in  literature,  and  still  less  to  revive  ancient  forms  of  speech 
and  old  expressions  which  all  the  world  knows  and  is 
famihar  with,  that  I  have  bound  myself  to  the  huml^le 
task  of  preserving  to  Etienne  Depardieu's  tale  the  local 
color  that  belongs  to  it.  It  is,  rather,  because  I  find  it 
impossible  to  make  him  speak  as  we  do  without  distorting 
the  methods  b}^  which  his  mind  worked  when  he  expressed 
himself  on  points  with  which  he  was  not  familiar,  and  as 
to  which  he  evidentlj'  had  a  strong  desire  both  to  under- 
stand and  to  make  himself  understood. 

If,  in  spite  of  the  care  and  conscientiousness  which  I 
shall  put  into  this  task,  you  find  that  my  narrator  some- 
times sees  too  clearly  or  too  deeply  into  the  subjects  ho 
takes  up,  3'ou  must  blame  tlie  weakness  of  my  present:i- 
tion.  Forced  as  I  am  to  choose  among  our  familiar  terms 
of  speech  such  only  as  all  (^lasses  can  understand,  I  vol- 
untarily deprive  myself  of  those  that  are  most  original  and 
most  expressive  ;    but,  at  any  rate,  I   shall  endeavor  to 


To  M.  Eugene  Lambert.^  v 

emplo}'  none  which  would  be  unknown  to  the  peasant  who 
tells  the  tale,  and  who  (far  superior  in  this  to  the  peasant 
of  to-day)  did  not  pride  himself  on  using  words  that  were 
unintelligible  to  both  his  hearers  and  himself. 

I  dedicate  this  novel  to  3  on,  my  dear  Eugene,  not  to 
give  3'ou  a  proof  of  motherl}'  affection,  which  3'ou  do  not 
need  to  make  you  feel  at  home  in  m}"  family,  but  to  leave 
with  3-ou,  after  I  am  gone,  a  point  of  contact  for  3'our  rec- 
ollections of  Berr3',  which  has  now  become,  in  a  way,  the 
land  of  3'our  adoption.  You  wdll  hereafter  recall  that 
3'ou  said,  at  the  time  I  was  writing  it:  "By  the  b3'e,  it 
will  soon  be  ten  years  since  I  came  here,  intending  to 
spend  a  month.  I  must  be  thinking  of  leaving."  And  as 
I  did  not  see  the  why  and  the  wherefore,  3'ou  explained  to 
me  that,  being  a  painter,  3'ou  had  worked  ten  3'ears  among 
us  to  observe  and  feel  nature,  and  that  it  was  now  neces- 
sary 3'OU  should  go  to  Paris  and  seek  discipline  of  thought 
and  the  experience  of  others.  I  let  3'ou  go  ;  but  on  con- 
dition that  3'OU  would  return  to  us  ever3'  summer.  Do 
not  forget  your  promise.  I  send  this  book,  a  distant 
echo  of  our  bagpipes,  to  remind  3'ou  that  the  trees  are 
budding,  the  nightingales  have  come,  and  the  great  spring- 
tide festival  of  nature  is  beginning  in  the  fields. 

George  Sand. 
NoHANT,  April,  1853. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PiKST  Evening 1 

Second  Evening 19 

Third  Evening 33 

Fourth  Evening 40 

EiFTH  Evening 54 

Sixth  Evening e    .  65 

Seventh  Evening o     .  78 

Eighth  Evening 93 

Ninth  Evening »     .     .    .     .  97 

Tenth  Evening 104 

Eleventh  Evening =>     .     .  116 

Twelfth  Evening 129 

Thirteenth  Evening 141 

Eourteenth  Evening 154 

Eipteenth  Evening 168 

Sixteenth  Evening 181 

Seventeenth  Evening 195 

Eighteenth  Evening 209 

Nineteenth  Evening 222 

Twentieth  Evening 233 

Twenty-Eirst  Evening .244 

Twenty-Second  Evening 256 


viii  Contents, 

PAGE 

Twenty-Thied  Evening 269 

Twenty-Fourth  Evening 282 

TwENTY-ElFTH   EvENING 296 

Twenty -Sixth  Evening 303 

Twenty-Seventh  Evening 319 

Twenty-Eighth  Evening 327 

Twenty-Ninth  Evening 341 

Thirtieth  Evening 355 

Thirty-First  Evening 369 

Thirty-Second  Evening  . 383 


THE    BAGPIPERS. 


FIRST   EVENING. 

T  WAS  not  born  j^esterday,  sjiid  Pere  Etienne  in  1828. 
I  came  into  the  world,  as  near  as  I  can  make  out,  in 
the  3^ear  54  or  55  of  the  last  centur}'.  But  not  remember- 
ing much  of  m}^  earlier  j'ears,  I  shall  only  tell  you  about 
myself  from  the  time  of  my  first  communion,  which  took 
place  in  '70  in  the  parish  church  of  Saint-Chartier,  then  in 
charge  of  the  Abbe  Moutperon,  who  is  now  ver}'  deaf  and 
broken  down. 

This  was  not  because  our  own  parish  of  Nohant  was 
suppressed  in  those  da3's  ;  but  our  curate  having  died,  the 
two  churches  were  united  for  a  time  under  the  ministry  of 
the  priest  of  Saint-Chartier,  and  we  went  every  day  to  be 
catechised,  —  that  is,  I  and  m\'  little  cousin  and  a  lad 
named  Joseph,  who  lived  in  the  same  house  with  my  uncle, 
with  a  dozen  other  children  of  the  neighborhood. 

I  say  "  my  uncle  "  for  short,  but  he  was  realh'  my  great- 
uncle,  the  brother  of  my  grandmother,  and  was  named 
Brulet ;  hence  his  little  granddaughter  and  only  heir  was 
called  Brulette,  without  an}^  mention  whatever  of  her 
Christian  name,  which  was  Catherine. 

Now,  to  tell  you  at  once  about  things  as  they  were,  I 
soon  felt  that  I  loved  Brulette  better  than  I  was  obliged  to 
do  as  a  cousin  ;  and  I  was  jealous  because  Joseph  lived  in 

1 


2.  The  Bagpipers, 

the  same  house,  which  stood  about  a  stone's  throw  distant 
from  the  last  houses  in  the  village  and  rather  more  than 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  from  mine,  —  so  that  he  could  see 
her  at  all  times,  while  I  saw  her  only  now  and  then,  till 
the  time  when  we  met  to  be  catechised. 

I  will  tell  you  how  it  happened  that  Brulette's  grand- 
father and  Joseph's  mother  lived  under  the  same  roof.  The 
house  belonged  to  the  old  man,  and  he  let  a  small  part  of 
it  to  the  woman,  who  was  a  widow  with  only  one  child. 
Her  name  was  Marie  Picot,  and  she  was  still  marriage- 
able, being  little  over  thirt}',  and  bearing  traces  in  her  face 
and  figure  of  having  been  in  her  daj^  a  very  prett}'  woman. 
She  was  still  called  by  some  people  "  handsome  Mariton," 
—  which  pleased  herver}'  much,  for  she  would  have  liked 
to  marr}^  again.  But  possessing  nothing  except  her  bright 
e3'es  and  her  honest  tongue,  she  thought  herself  lucky  to 
pa}^  a  low  price  for  her  lodging  and  get  a  worthy  and  help- 
ful old  man  for  a  landlord  and  neighbor,  - —  one  too  who 
would  n't  worry  her,  but  might  sometimes  help  her. 

Pere  Brulet  and  the  widow  Picot,  called  Mariton,  had 
thus  lived  in  each  other's  good  graces  for  about  a  dozen 
years  ;  that  is,  ever  since  the  day  when  Brulette's  mother 
died  in  giving  birth  to  her,  and  Mariton  had  taken  charge 
of  the  infant  with  as  much  love  and  care  as  if  it  had  been 
her  own. 

Joseph,  who  was  three  years  older  than  Brulette,  re- 
membered being  rocked  in  the  same  cradle  ;  and  the  baby 
was  the  first  burden  ever  trusted  to  his  little  arms.  Later, 
Pere  Brulet,  noticing  that  his  neighbor  had  her  hands 
full  with  the  care  of  the  two  as  they  grew  stronger,  took 
Joseph  into  bis  part  of  the  house  ;  and  so  it  came  to  pass 
that  the  little  girl  slept  with  the  widow,  and  the  little  boy 
with  the  old  man. 


Tlie  Bagpipers,  3 

All  four,  however,  ate  together.  Mariton  cooked  the 
meals,  kept  the  house,  made  over  and  darned  the  clothes, 
while  the  old  man,  who  was  still  sturd}'  enough  to  work, 
went  out  by  the  day  and  paid  the  greater  part  of  the 
household  expenses.  He  did  not  do  this  because  he  was 
well-off  and  his  living  was  bound  to  be  good  accordingly, 
but  because  the  widow  was  kind  and  amiable,  and  excel- 
lent compan}' ;  and  Brulette  considered  her  so  much  like  a 
mother  that  my  uncle  grew  to  treat  her  as  a  daughter,  or 
at  any  rate  as  a  daughter-in-law. 

Nothing  in  the  world  was  ever  prettier  or  sweeter  than 
the  little  girl  under  Mariton's  bringing  up.  The  woman 
loved  cleanliness,  and  kept  herself  as  spick  and  span  as 
her  means  allowed  ;  and  she  had  earl}'  taught  Brulette  to  do 
the  same.  At  the  age,  therefore,  when  children  usually  roll 
in  the  dirt  like  little  animals,  the  darling  was  so  clean  and 
dainty  in  all  her  waj'S  that  everybody  wanted  to  kiss  her ; 
but  she  was  already  very  char}'  of  her  favors,  and  would 
never  be  familiar  unless  quite  sure  of  her  compau}'. 

When  she  was  twelve  3'ears  old  she  was  really,  at  times, 
like  a  little  woman ;  and  if,  carried  away  by  the  liveliness 
of  her  3'ears,  she  did  forget  herself  so  far  as  to  play  while 
being  catechised,  she  soon  caught  herself  up,  even  more, 
it  seemed  to  me,  out  of  self-respect  than  for  the  sake  of 
religion. 

I  don't  know  if  an}'  of  us  could  have  told  why,  but  all 
of  us  lads,  unlike  enough  when  it  came  to  catechising,  felt 
the  difference  that  there  was  between  Brulette  and  the 
other  little  girls. 

I  must  own  that  some  in  the  class  were  rather  big  boys. 
Joseph  was  fifteen  and  I  was  sixteen,  which  our  parents 
and  the  curate  declared  was  a  disgrace  to  us.  Such  back- 
wardness certainly  did  prove  that  Joseph  was  too  lazy  to 


4  The  Bagpipers, 

stud}',  and  I  too  lively  to  give  my  mind  to  it.  In  fact,  for 
three  j'ears  he  and  I  had  been  rejected  from  the  class ; 
and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  Abbe  Montperon,  who  was 
less  particular  than  our  old  curate,  I  suppose  we  might 
have  continued  so  to  this  da-y. 

However,  it  is  onl}"  fair  to  confess  that  boys  are  alwa3's 
3'ounger  in  mind  than  girls  ;  and  you  will  find  in  every 
Confirmation  class  just  this  difference  between  the  two 
species,  —  the  males  being  already  strong,  grown  lads,  and 
the  females  still  small,  hardl}'  old  enough  to  wear  the  coif. 

As  for  knowledge,  we  were  all  about  alike  ;  none  of  us 
knew  how  to  read,  still  less  to  write,  and  we  only  learned 
what  we  did  just  as  the  little  birds  learn  to  sing,  without 
knowing  either  notes  or  Latin,  b}^  dint  only  of  using  their 
ears.  But  all  the  same,  Monsieur  le  cure  knew  ver}'  well 
which  of  the  flock  had  the  quickest  minds,  and  which  of 
them  remembered  what  he  said.  The  cleverest  head 
among  the  girls  was  little  Brulette's,  and  the  stupidest 
of  all  the  stupid  bo3's  was  Joseph. 

Not  that  he  was  really  duller  than  the  rest,  but  he  was 
quite  unable  to  listen  and  so  get  a  smattering  of  things  he 
did  not  understand ;  and  he  showed  so  little  liking  for 
instruction  that  I  was  surprised  at  him,  —  I  who  could  take 
hold  of  my  lessons  fast  enough  when  I  managed  to  keep 
still,  and  quiet  down  my  lively  spirits. 

Though  Brulette  scolded  him  for  it  sometimes,  she  never 
got  an^'thing  out  of  him  but  tears  of  vexation. 

"  I  am  not  worse  than  others,"  he  would  sav  ;  "I  don't 
want  to  offend  God  ;  but  words  don't  come  right  in  my 
memory,  and  I  can't  help  it." 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  replied  the  little  one,  who  already  took 
atone  of  ordering  him  about;  "  3'ou  can  if  3'ou  choose. 
You  can  do  whatever  3'ou  like  ;  but  you  let  3'our  mind  run 


The  Bagpipers,  5 

after  all  sorts  of  things,  —  it  is  no  wonder  Monsieur  I'abbe 
calls  you  '  Joseph  the  absent-minded.'  " 

"  He  can  call  me  so  if  he  likes,"  answered  Joseph.  "  I 
don't  understand  what  it  means." 

But  the  rest  of  us  understood  ver}^  well,  and  turned  it 
into  our  own  childish  language  by  calling  him  J'ose  Veber- 
vige  [literally,  the  bewildered,  the  staring-eyed]  ;  a  name 
which  stuck  to  him,  to  his  great  disgust. 

Joseph  was  a  melancholy  child,  with  a  puny  body  and 
a  mind  turned  inward.  He  never  left  Brulette,  and  was 
ver}'  submissive  to  her ;  nevertheless,  she  said  he  was  as 
obstinate  as  a  mule,  and  found  fault  with  him  all  the 
time.  Though  she  did  not  sa}'  much  to  me  about  m}^  law- 
less, do-nothing  ways,  I  often  wished  she  would  take  as 
much  notice  of  me  as  she  did  of  him.  However,  in  spite 
of  the  jealousy  he  caused  me,  I  cared  more  for  Jose  than 
for  my  other  comrades,  because  he  was  one  of  the  weakest, 
and  I  one  of  the  strongest.  Besides,  if  I  had  not  stood 
up  for  him,  Brulette  would  have  blamed  me.  When  I  told 
her  that  she  loved  him  more  than  she  did  me,  who  was  her 
cousin,  she  would  sa}^  — 

''It  is  not  on  his  account ;  it  is  because  of  his  mother, 
whom  I  love  better  than  I  do  either  of  you.  If  anything 
happened  to  him,  I  should  not  dare  go  home ;  for  as  he 
never  thinks  of  what  he  is  about,  she  charged  me  to  think 
for  both,  and  I  try  not  to  forget  it." 

I  often  hear  our  betters  sa}' :  "  I  went  to  school  with 
such  a  one  ;  he  was  my  college  companion."  We  peas- 
ants, who  never  went  to  school  in  my  young  days,  we  say, 
"I  was  catechised  with  such  a  one;  that's  mj^  commun- 
ion comrade."  Then  is  the  time  we  make  our  youthful 
friendships,  and  sometimes,  too,  the  hatreds  that  last  a 
lifetime.     In  the  fields,  at  work,  or  at  the  festivals,  wo 


6  The  Bagpipers, 

talk  and  laugh  together,  and  meet  and  part ;  but  at  the 
catechism  classes,  which  last  a  year,  and  often  two,  we 
must  put  up  with  each  other's  compan}^,  and  even  help 
each  other  five  or  six  hours  a  da}'.  We  alwaj's  started  off 
together  in  a  body  every  morning  across  the  fields  and 
meadows,  beside  the  coverts  and  fences,  and  along  the 
foot-paths ;  and  we  came  back  in  the  evening  anyhow,  as 
it  pleased  the  good  God,  for  we  took  advantage  of  our 
liberty  to  run  where  we  chose,  like  frolicking  birds. 
Those  who  liked  each  other's  compan}"  stayed  together ; 
the  disagreeable  ones  went  alone,  or  banded  in  twos  and 
threes  to  tease  and  frighten  the  rest. 

Joseph  had  his  ways ;  the}"  were  neither  horrid  nor 
sulky,  and  yet  they  were  not  amiable.  I  never  remember 
seeing  him  reall}^  enjoying  himself,  nor  reall}'  frightened, 
nor  really  contented,  nor  really  anno3'ed  with  anything 
that  ever  happened  to  us.  In  our  fights  he  never  got  out 
of  the  way,  and  he  usually  received  blows  which  he  did 
not  know  how  to  return  ;  but  he  made  no  complaint.  You 
might  have  supposed  he  did  not  feel  them. 

When  we  loitered  to  pla^^  some  game,  he  would  sit  or 
lie  down  at  a  little  distance  and  say  nothing,  answering 
wide  of  the  mark  if  we  spoke  to  him.  He  seemed  to  be 
listening  or  looking  at  something  which  the  others  could 
not  perceive  ;  that 's  w  hy  he  was  thought  to  be  one  of 
those  who  "  see  the  wind."  Sometimes,  when  Brulette, 
who  knew  his  crotchets,  but  would  not  explain  them,  called 
him,  he  did  not  answer.  Then  she  would  begin  to  sing, — 
that  was  sure  to  wake  him  up,  as  a  whistle  is  sure  to  stop 
people  from  snoring. 

To  tell  3'ou  wh}'  I  attached  myself  to  a  fellow  who  was 
such  poor  compan}'  is  more  than  I  am  able  to  do ;  for  I 
was  just  the  opposite  myself.     I  could  not  do  without 


The  Bagpipers.  7 

companions,  and  I  was  alwaj's  listening  and  observing 
others  ;  I  liked  to  talk  and  question,  felt  dull  when  I  was 
alone,  and  went  about  looking  for  fun  and  friendship. 
Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  why,  pitying  the  serious, 
reserved  bo}',  I  imitated  Brulette,  who  would  shake  him 
up  sometimes,  — which  did  him  more  good  than  it  did  her, 
for  in  fact  she  indulged  his  whims  much  more  than  she 
controlled  them.  As  far  as  words  went  she  ordered  him 
about  finel}',  but  as  he  never  obej'ed  her  it  was  she  (and 
I  through  her)  who  followed  in  his  wake  and  had  patience 
with  him. 

The  da}'  of  our  first  communion  came  at  last ;  and, 
returning  from  church,  I  made  such  strong  resolutions 
not  to  give  way  to  m}^  lawlessness  any  more  that  I  fol- 
lowed Brulette  home  to  her  grandfather's  house,  as  the 
best  example  I  could  lay  hold  of  to  guide  me. 

While  she  went,  at  Mariton's  bidding,  to  milk  the  goat, 
Joseph  and  I  stayed  talking  with  his  mother  in  my  uncle's 
room. 

We  were  looking  at  the  devotional  images  which  the 
curate  had  given  us  in  remembrance  of  the  sacrament,  —  or 
rather  I  was,  for  Joseph  was  thinking  of  something  else, 
and  fingered  them  without  seeing  what  thev  were.  So  the 
others  paid  no  attention  to  us  ;  and  presently  Mariton  said 
to  her  old  neighbor,  alluding  to  our  first  communion,  — 

"  Well,  it  is  a  good  thing  done,  and  now  I  can  hire  my 
lad  out  to  work.  I  have  decided  to  do  what  I  told  3'ou  I 
should." 

My  uncle  shook  his  head  sadh',  and  she  continued  : 

"  Just  listen  to  one  thing,  neighbor.  My  Jose  has 
got  no  mind.  I  know  that,  worse  luck  !  He  takes  after 
his  poor  deceased  father,  who  hadn't  two  ideas  a  week, 
but  who  was  a  well-to-do  and  well-behaved  man,  for  all 


8  The  Bagpipers. 

that.  Still,  it  is  an  infirmity  to  have  so  little  faculty  in 
your  head,  because  if  ill-luck  has  it  that  a  man  man-ies  a 
silly  wife,  everj'thing  goes  to  the  bad  in  a  hurry.  That's 
why  I  said  to  myself,  when  I  saw  my  boy  growing  so 
long  in  the  legs,  that  his  brain  would  never  feed  him  ;  and 
that  if  I  could  onl}^  leave  him  a  little  sum  of  mone}'  I 
should  die  happ3\  You  know  the  good  a  few  savings  can 
do.  In  our  poor  homes  it  is  ever3'thing.  Now,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  la}'  by  a  penn}*,  and  I  do  suppose  I  'ra 
not  young  enough  to  please  a  man,  for  I  have  not  re- 
married. Well,  if  that 's  so,  God's  w411  be  done  !  I  am 
still  young  enough  to  work ;  and  so  I  may  as  well  tell 
you,  neighbor,  that  the  innkeeper  at  Chartier  wants  a 
servant.  He  pa3's  good  wages,  —  thirty  crowns  a  j'ear! 
besides  perquisites,  which  come  to  half  as  much  again. 
With  all  that,  strong  and  lively  as  I  know  I  am,  I  shall 
have  made  my  fortune  in  ten  3'ears.  I  can  take  m}'  ease 
in  my  old  days,  and  leave  a  little  something  to  my  poor 
boy.     What  do  you  sa}'  to  that  ?  " 

Pere  Brulet  thought  a  little,  and  then  replied,  — 
''  You  are  wrong,  neighbor  ;  indeed  3'ou  are  wrong  !  " 
Mariton   thought   too ;    and  then,  understanding  what 
the  old  man  meant,  she  said,  — 

*'  No  doubt,  no  doubt.  A  woman  is  exposed  to  blame 
in  a  countrj'  inn ;  even  if  she  behaves  properh',  people 
won't  believe  it.  That's  what  you  meant,  is  n't  it?  Well, 
but  what  am  I  to  do?  Of  course  it  deprives  me  of  all 
chance  of  re-marrying ;  but  we  don't  regret  what  we 
suffer  for  our  children,  —  indeed,  sometimes  we  rejoice 
in  it." 

"  There  is  something  worse  than  suffering,"  said  m}' 
uncle,  — "  there  is  shame ;  and  that  recoils  upon  the 
children." 


The  Bagpipers,  9 

Mariton  sighed. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "a  woman  is  exposed  to  daily  in- 
sults in  a  house  of  that  kind.  She  must  always  be  on 
the  look-out  to  defend  herself.  If  she  gets  angry,  that 
injures  the  custom,  and  her  masters  don't  like  it." 

"  Some  of  them,"  said  the  old  man,  "  try  to  find 
handsome  and  good-humored  women  like  3'ou  to  help  sell 
their  liquors  ;  a  saucy  maid  is  often  all  an  inn-keeper  needs 
to  do  a  better  business  than  his  neighbors." 

"I  know  that,"  said  Mariton;  "but  a  woman  can  be 
gay  and  lively,  and  quick  to  serve  the  guests,  without 
allowing  herself  to  be  insulted." 

"  Bad  language  is  always  insulting,"  said  Pere  Brulet ; 
"  and  it  ought  to  cost  an  honest  woman  dear  to  get  ac- 
customed to  such  ways.  Think  how  mortified  3'our  son 
will  be  when  he  hears  the  carters  and  the  bagmen  joking 
with  his  mother." 

"  Luckily  he  's  simple,"  said  Mariton,  looking  at  Joseph. 

I  looked  at  him  too,  and  I  was  surprised  that  he  did 
not  hear  a  word  of  what  his  mother  was  saying  in  a  voice 
loud  enough  for  me  to  catch  every  word.  I  gathered 
from  that  that  he  was  "hearing  thick,"  as  we  said  in 
those  days,  meaning  one  who  was  hard  of  hearing. 

Joseph  got  up  presently  and  went  after  Brulette,  who 
was  in  her  little  goat-pen,  which  was  nothing  more  than  a 
shed  made  of  planks  stuffed  with  straw,  where  she  kept 
about  a  dozen  animals. 

He  flung  himself  on  a  pile  of  brushwood  ;  and  having 
followed  him  (for  fear  of  being  thought  inquisitive  if  I 
stayed  behind),  I  saw  that  he  was  crying  inside  of  him, 
thou;jjh  there  were  no  tears  in  his  ej'es. 

"'  Are  3-ou  asleep,  Jose?  "  said  Brulette  ;  "  if  not,  wli}^ 
are  you  lying  there  like  a  sick  sheep?     Come,  give  me 


10  The  Bagpipers, 

those  sticks  3'ou  are  lying  on ;  I  want  the  leaves  for  my 
goats." 

So  saying,  she  began  to  sing, — but  ver}^  softly,  because 
it  was  n't  the  thing  to  make  a  racket  on  the  day  of  her 
first  communion. 

I  fancied  her  song  had  the  usual  effect  of  drawing 
Joseph  from  his  dreams,  for  he  rose,  and  went  away. 
Then  Brulette  said  to  me,  — 

*'  What  is  the  matter?     He  seems  worse  than  usual." 

"  I  think  he  must  have  heard  that  he  is  to  be  hired  out 
and  leave  his  mother,"  I  replied. 

"  He  expected  it,"  said  Brulette  ;  "is  n't  it  the  custom 
for  all  of  us  to  go  out  to  service  as  soon  as  we  have  re- 
ceived the  sacrament?  If  I  were  not  luck}'  enough  to  be 
m}'  grandfather's  onlj'  child,  I  should  have  to  leave  home 
and  earn  mv  living  as  others  do." 

Brulette  did  not  seem  much  distressed  at  the  thought  of 
parting  from  Joseph  ;  but  when  I  told  her  that  Mariton 
was  also  going  to  hire  herself  out  and  live  far  away,  she 
began  to  sob,  and  rushing  into  the  house,  she  flung  herself 
on  Mariton's  neck,  crjing  out,  — 

*••  Is  it  true,  darling,  that  3'ou  are  going  to  leave  me?" 

*'Who  told  you  that?"  asked  Mariton.  "It  is  not 
decided." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  cried  Brulette;  "you  said  so,  and  you 
want  to  hide  it  from  me." 

"  As  some  inquisitive  boj's  don't  know  how  to  hold  their 
tongue,"  said  Mariton,  with  a  severe  glance  at  me,  "  I 
must  tell  3'ou  all.  Yes,  my  child,  you  must  bear  it  like  a 
brave  and  sensible  girl  who  has  given  her  soul  to  the 
good  God  this  very  da}'." 

"  Papa,"  said  Brulette,  turning  to  her  grandfather,  "  how 
can  you  consent  to  let  her  go  ?  Who  is  to  take  care  of  you  ?  " 


The  Bagpipers,  11 

"You,  my  child,"  replied  Mariton  ;  "  j^ou  are  now  old 
enough  to  do  3'our  duty.  Listen  to  me,  —  and  3'ou  too, 
neighbor ;   for  here  is   something   I    have    not  3'et   told 

you." 

Taking  the  little  girl  on  her  knee,  while  I  stood  between 
my  uncle's  legs  (for  his  grieved  look  drew  me  to  him), 
Mariton  continued  to  reason,  first  with  one,  and  then  with 
the  other. 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  the  friendship  I  owe  you,"  she 
said,  "  I  ought  long  ago  to  have  left  Joseph  here  and  paid 
his  board  while  I  went  out  to  service  and  laid  by  a  little 
mone}'.  But  I  felt  I  was  bound  to  bring  you  up,  my  Bru- 
lette,  till  you  made  your  first  communion,  because  3^ou  are 
the  3'oungest,  and  because  a  girl  wants  a  mother  longer 
than  a  boy.  I  had  n't  the  heart  to  leave  3'ou  as  long  as 
3^ou  could  n't  do  without  me.  But  now,  3'ou  see,  the  time 
has  come ;  and  if  an3'thing  can  reconcile  3'ou  to  losing  me, 
it  is  that  3'ou  will  soon  feel  useful  to  your  grandfather.  I 
have  taught  3'ou  how  to  manage  a  household  and  all  that  a 
good  girl  ought  to  know  for  the  service  of  her  parents  and 
famil3'.  You  '11  practise  it  for  my  sake  and  to  do  credit  to 
m3'  teaching.  It  will  be  m3"  pride  and  consolation  to  hear 
people  tell  how  m3'  Brulette  takes  good  care  of  her  grand- 
father, and  manages  his  money  like  a  little  woman.  Come, 
be  brave,  and  don't  deprive  me  of  the  little  courage  that  I 
have  got ;  for  if  you  feel  badly  at  m3^  departure,  I  feel 
worse  than  3'ou.  Remember  that  I  am  leaving  Pere 
Brulet,  who  has  been  the  best  of  friends  to  me,  and  m3' 
poor  Jose,  who  will  hear  hard  things  said  of  his  mother 
and  his  home.  But  my  dut3^  bids  me  do  it,  and  you 
wouldn't  wish  me  to  go  against  that?" 

Brulette  cried  till  evening,  and  could  not  help  Mariton  in 
an}thing  ;   but  when  she  saw  her  hiding  her  '^.ears  as  she 


12  The  Baginpers. 

cooked  the  supper,  the  girl  flung  her  arms  round  her  foster- 
mother's  neck  and  vowed  to  do  as  she  had  taught  her  ;  and 
thereupon  set  to  work  with  a  will. 

They  sent  me  to  find  Joseph,  wiio  had  forgotten  (not  for 
the  first  time,  nor  for  the  last  either)  that  he  ought  to 
come  home  and  get  his  supper  like  other  people. 

I  found  him  in  a  corner  all  alone,  dreaming  and  gazing 
at  the  ground  as  if  his  eyes  would  take  root  in  it.  Contrary 
to  his  usual  custom,  he  did  let  me  drag  a  few  words  out  of 
him,  in  which,  as  I  thought,  there  was  more  annoyance  than 
grief.  He  was  not  surprised  at  having  to  go  out  to  service, 
knowing  that  he  was  now  old  enough,  and  could  not  do 
otherwise  ;  hut  without  showing  that  he  had  overheard 
his  motlier's  plans,  he  complained  that  nobod}'  loved  him 
or  thought  him  capable  of  doing  good  work. 

I  could  not  get  him  to  explain  himself  any  farther  ;  and 
all  that  evening  —  for  I  stayed  to  say  my  prayers  with  him 
and  with  Brulette  —  he  seemed  to  sulk,  while  Brulette, 
on  the  contrary,  was  full  of  kindness  and  caresses  for 
everj^body. 

Soon  after  this,  Joseph  was  hired  out  as  a  laborer  to 
P^re  I^Iichel  on  the  estate  of  Aulnieres. 

Mariton  went  to  work  at  an  inn  called  the  Brouf 
Couronne,  kept  by  Bcnoit  at  Saint-Chartier. 

Brulette  remained  with  her  grandfather,  and  I  with  my 
parents,  who  had  a  small  propertj^  and  kept  me  at  home  to 
help  them  cultivate  it. 

The  day  of  my  first  communion  affected  my  spirits.  I 
had  made  great  efforts  to  bring  myself  into  thoughts  that 
were  suitable  to  my  age  ;  and  the  catechising  with  Brulette 
had  also  changed  me.  Thoughts  of  her  were  always 
mixed  up,  I  don't  know  how,  with  those  I  tried  to  give  to 
the  good  God ;  and  all  the  while  that  I  was  growing  in 


The  Bagpipers.  13 

grace  as  to  m}'  behavior,  m}''  head  was  running  on  follies 
of  love  which  were  beyond  her  3'ears,  and  even  for  mine 
they  were  a  little  ahead  of  the  proper  season. 

About  this  time  m}'  father  took  me  to  the  fair  at  Orval, 
near  Saint- Armand,  to  sell  a  brood-mare  ;  and  for  the  first 
time  in  m}'  life  I  was  away  from  home.  My  mother  ob- 
served that  I  did  not  sleep  or  eat  enough  to  support  my 
growth,  which  was  faster  than  customary  in  our  part  of  the 
country,  and  my  father  thought  a  little  amusement  would 
do  me  good.  But  I  did  not  find  as  much  in  seeing  the 
world  and  new  places  as  I  should  have  done  six  months 
earlier.  I  had  a  foolish,  languishing  desire  to  look  at  the 
girls,  without  daring  to  say  a  word  to  them  ;  then  I  thought 
of  Brulette,  whom  I  fancied  1  could  marr}',  for  the  sole 
reason  that  she  was  the  onl}'  one  I  was  not  afraid  of,  and 
I  reckoned  her  age  and  mine  over  and  over  again,  —  which 
didn't  make  the  time  go  any  faster  than  the  good  God  had 
marked  it  on  his  clock. 

As  I  rode  back  on  the  crupper  behind  m}'  father  on  an- 
other mare  which  we  had  bought  at  the  fair,  we  met,  in  a 
dip  of  the  road,  a  middle-aged  man  who  was  driving  a  little 
cart  laden  with  furniture,  the  which,  being  drawn  by  noth- 
ing better  than  a  donkey,  had  stuck  fast  in  the  mud,  and 
could  n't  go  on.  The  man  was  beginning  to  lighten  the 
load  b}^  taking  oflT  part  of  it ;  and  m}'  father,  seeing  this, 
said  to  me, — 

"  Let  us  get  down,  and  help  a  neighbor  out  of  his 
trouble." 

The  man  thanked  us ;  and  then,  as  if  speaking  to  his 
cart,  he  said,  — 

"  Come,  little  one,  wake  up  ;  I  shouldn't  like  to  upset 

you." 

When  he  said  that,  I  saw,  rising  from  a  mattress,  a 


14  The  Bagpipers, 

pretty  little  girl,  apparently  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  yeais 
old,  who  rubbed  her  eyes,  and  asked  what  had  happened. 

"The  road  is  bad,  daughter,"  said  the  man,  taking  her 
up  in  his  arms.  "Come,  I  can't  let  you  get  your  feet 
wet,  —  for  you  must  know,"  he  added,  turning  to  m^^ 
father,  "  she  is  ill  with  fever  from  having  grown  so  fast. 
Just  see  what  a  rampant  vine  she  is  for  a  girl  of  eleven 
and  a  half!  " 

"  True  as  God,"  said  m}^  father;  "  she  is  a  fine  sprig 
of  a  girl,  and  pretty  as  the  sunshine,  though  the  fever  has 
rather  paled  her.  But  that  will  go  off;  feed  her  up,  and 
she  won't  sell  the  worse  for  it." 

When  my  father  said  this  his  head  was  still  full  of  the 
talk  of  the  horse-dealers  at  the  fair.  But  seeing  that  the 
girl  had  left  her  sabots  in  the  cart,  and  that  it  would  be 
no  easy  matter  to  find  them,  he  said  to  me,  — 

"  Here !  you  are  strong  enough  to  hold  the  little  girl 
for  a  while." 

Then,  putting  her  into  my  arms,  he  harnessed  our  mare 
into  the  place  of  the  useless  donkey,  and  pulled  the  cart 
out  of  the  mud-hole.  But  there  was  another  quagmire 
farther  on,  as  m}^  father  knew,  having  gone  that  road  sev- 
eral times  ;  so  calling  to  me  to  come  on,  he  walked  in  front 
with  the  peasant,  who  was  twisting  his  ass's  ears. 

I  carried  the  great  girl  and  looked  at  her  with  amaze- 
ment ;  for  though  she  was  a  head  taller  than  Brulette,  I 
could  see  by  her  figure  that  she  was  no  older. 

She  was  white  and  slender  as  a  wax  taper,  and  her  black 
hair,  breaking  loose  from  a  little  cap  made  in  the  fashion 
of  other  parts,  which  had  been  rumpled  as  she  slept,  fell 
over  my  breast  and  almost  down  to  m}'  knees.  I  had 
never  seen  anything  so  perfect  as  her  pale  face,  her  clear 
blue  eyes  fringed  with  thick  lashes,  her  gentle,  tired  air, 


The  Bagpipers,  15 

and  even  a  perfect!}'  black  mark  at  one  corner  of  her 
mouth,  which  made  her  beauty  something  strange  and 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

She  seemed  so  young  that  m}'  heart  said  nothing  to  me, 
though  it  was  close  to  hers  ;  3'et  it  was  not  so  much  her 
"want  of  3'ears,  perhaps,  as  the  languor  of  her  illness  that 
made  her  appear  so  childish.  I  did  not  speak  to  her, 
and  walked  along  without  thinking  her  heav}' ;  but  I  took 
pleasure  in  looking  at  her,  the  same  pleasure  that  one 
feels  at  the  sight  of  any  fine  thing,  whether  it  be  a  girl  or 
a  woman,  a  flower  or  a  fruit. 

As  we  neared  the  second  mud-hole,  where  her  father  and 
mine  began,  the  one  to  urge  his  horse,  the  other  to  shove 
the  w^heel,  the  little  girl  spoke  to  me  in  a  language  which 
made  me  laugh,  for  I  did  not  understand  a  word  of  it. 
She  was  surprised  at  my  surprise,  and  then  she  spoke  in 
the  language  we  all  speak. 

"Don't  strain  yourself  carrying  me,"  she  said;  "  I  can 
walk  very  well  without  sabots  ;  I  am  as  much  used  to  it 
as  others." 

"  Yes,  but  3'ou  are  ill,"  said  I ;  "and  I  could  carry  four 
like  you.  What  country  do  you  belong  to?  That  was  a 
queer  language  you  spoke  just  now." 

"  What  country?"  she  said.  "  I  don't  belong  to  an}' 
country;  I  come  from  the  woods,  that's  all.  And  3''ou, 
where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Ah !  my  little  fair}^  if  3'ou  belong  to  the  woods,  I  be- 
long to  the  fields,"  I  answered,  laughing. 

I  was  going  to  question  her  further,  when  her  father 
came  and  took  her  from  me. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  with  m}'  father,  "  I 
thank  3^ou,  my  good  people.  And  you,  little  one,  kiss 
the  kind  lad  who  has  carried  you  like  a  load  of  game." 


16  Tlie  Baginpers, 

The  child  did  as  she  was  bid ;  she  was  not  old  enough 
to  be  coy,  and  thinking  no  harm,  she  made  no  difficult}'. 
She  kissed  me  on  both  cheeks,  saying:  "  Thanks  to  you, 
my  fine  carrier ;  "  then,  passing  into  her  father's  arms,  she 
was  laid  on  her  mattress,  and  seemed  about  to  go  to  sleep 
again,  without  minding  the  jolts  or  thinking  about  the  risks 
of  the  journey. 

' '  Good-b3'e  again !  "  said  her  father,  taking  me  b}'  the 
knee,  to  mount  me  on  the  mare's  crupper.  "  A  fine  lad  !  " 
he  remarked  to  my  father,  looking  me  over,  "  and  as  for- 
ward for  the  age  you  say  he  is  as  my  little  girl  is  for 
hers." 

"  He  is  a  little  the  worse  for  it  in  the  way  of  health," 
answered  m}' father;  "but,  God  willing,  work  will  soon 
cure  him.  Excuse  us  if  we  go  on  before  yow  ;  we  have 
far  to  go,  and  I  want  to  get  home  before  night." 

Thereupon  my  father  struck  his  heels  into  the  mare, 
which  trotted  off,  while  I,  looking  back,  saw  the  man  turn 
his  cart  to  the  right,  and  go  off  in  another  direction. 

I  was  soon  thinking  of  something  else,  but  a  recollec- 
tion of  Brulette  coming  into  my  head,  I  remembered  the 
free  kisses  the  little  girl  had  given  me,  and  wondered  why 
Brulette  alwaj'S  slapped  me  when  I  tried  to  get  a  kiss  from 
her ;  then,  as  the  ride  was  long,  and  I  had  got  up  before 
daylight,  I  fell  asleep  behind  my  father,  mixing  up  in  my 
tired  head,  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  how,  the  faces  of  the 
two  little  girls. 

My  father  pinched  me  to  wake  up,  for  he  felt  my  weight 
on  his  shoulders,  and  was  afraid  I  should  tumble  off.  I 
asked  him  wlio  those  people  we  had  met  were. 

"Which  of  them  do  3'ou  mean?"  he  said,  laughing  at 
my  sleepy  wa}^     "  We  have  met  more  than  five  hundred 


The  Bagpipers.  17 

"  Those  with  the  cart  and  donkey,"  I  repHed. 

"Oh!"  said  he,  "well,  faith,  I  don't  know;  I  never 
thought  to  ask.  ProbabI\'  thej'  come  from  either  La 
Marche  or  Champagne,  for  thej^  speak  with  a  foreign 
accent ;  but  I  was  so  bus}^  watching  to  see  if  the  mare 
•was  good  at  the  collar  that  I  did  n't  take  notice  of  much 
else.  She  does  pull  \Qvy  well,  and  did  n't  hang  back  at 
all ;  I  think  she  will  prove  serviceable,  and  that  I  have 
not  paid  too  dear  for  her." 

From  that  time  on  (the  trip  having  certainly  done  me 
good)  I  got  better  and  better,  and  took  a  liking  for  work. 
M}'  father  gave  me  first  the  care  of  the  mare,  then  that 
of  the  garden,  and  finall}'  that  of  the  field  ;  and,  little  b}' 
little,  1  came  to  take  pleasure  in  digging,  planting,  and 
harvesting. 

By  that  time  my  father  was  a  widower,  and  seemed 
anxious  to  let  me  benefit  by  the  propert}"  m}'  mother  had 
left  me.  So  he  gave  me  a  share  in  all  our  little  profits, 
and  wished  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  see  me  turn  out  a 
good  farmer.  It  was  not  long  before  he  found  I  had  a 
relish  for  the  life ;  for  if  youth  needs  courage  to  deprive 
itself  of  pleasure  in  the  service  of  others,  it  needs  none  at 
all  to  work  for  its  own  interests,  above  all  when  thej'  are 
in  common  with  those  of  a  worth}'  family,  honest  in  the 
division  of  profits,  and  agreeing  well  as  to  the  work. 

I  still  continued  rather  fond  of  gossiping  and  amusing 
myself  on  Sundays.  But  no  one  blamed  me  for  that  at 
home,  because  I  was  a  good  worker  during  the  week. 
Such  a  life  brought  me  health  of  bod}'  and  good-humor, 
and  a  little  more  sense  in  my  head  than  I  gave  promise 
of  at  first.  I  forgot  all  the  vaporings  of  love,  for  noth- 
ing keeps  you  so  quiet  as  to  sweat  with  a  spade  from  sun- 
rise to  sunset ;  and  when  night  comes,  those  who  have  had 

2 


18  The  Bagpipers* 

to  do  with  the  heav}' ,  rich  soil  of  our  parts  (the  hardest 
mistress  theie  is),  amuse  themselves  best  b}'  going  to 
sleep,  to  be  read}^  for  the  morrow. 

That  is  how  I  peacefull}-  reached  the  age  when  it  is 
allowable  to  think,  not  of  little  girls,  but  of  grown-up 
ones ;  and  at  the  ver}"  first  stirring  of  such  ideas,  I 
found  my  cousin  Brulette  still  fixed,  above  all  others,  in 
my  inclinations. 

Living  alone  with  her  grandfather,  Brulette  had  done 
her  best  to  be  older  than  her  years  in  sense  and  courage. 
But  some  children  are  born  with  the  gift  or  the  fate  of  be- 
ing always  petted  and  cared  for.  Mariton's  former  lodging 
was  let  to  Mere  Lamouche,  of  Vieilleville,  who  was  poor, 
and  was  therefore  ready  to  serve  the  Brulets  as  though 
the}"  paid  her  wages,  hoping  thereby  to  get  a  hearing 
when  she  declared  herself  unable  to  pa}'  the  reuL  It  so 
turned  out ;  and  Brulette,  finding  that  the  new  neighbor 
helped  her,  forestalled  her,  and  made  things  comfortable 
for  her,  had  time  and  ease  to  grow  in  mind  and  beauty 
without  much  effort  of  soul  or  body. 


The  Bagpipers*  19 


SECOND    EVENING. 

Little  Brulette  was  now  called  "  handsome  Brulette," 
and  was  much  talked  of  in  our  country-side ;  for  within 
the  memory  of  man  no  prettier  girl  or  finer  ej'es  or 
slimmer  waist  or  rosier  cheek  or  hair  of  brighter  gold  had 
ever  been  seen ;  her  hand  was  like  satin,  and  her  foot  as 
daint}'  as  a  3'oung  lady's. 

All  that  tells  3'ou  plain  enough  that  my  cousin  did  not 
work  ver}^  hard  ;  she  never  went  out  in  bad  weather,  took 
care  to  shade  herself  from  the  sun,  did  not  wash  the 
clothes,  and  made  no  use  of  her  limbs  to  tire  them. 

Perhaps  you  will  think  she  was  idle?  Not  at  all.  She 
did  everything  that  she  could  not  help  doing  fast  and  well. 
She  had  too  much  good  sense  not  to  keep  order  and  neat- 
ness in  the  household  and  take  the  best  care  of  her  grand- 
father, as  in  duty  bound.  Moreover,  she  liked  finery  too 
well  not  to  do  a  good  bit  of  sewing  ;  but  as  to  hard  work, 
she  never  so  much  as  heard  of  it.  There  was  no  occasion 
that  she  should,  and  therefore  it  can't  be  said  she  was  to 
bh^me. 

There  are  some  families  where  toil  and  nothing  else 
comes  earl}'  to  warn  3'oung  people  that  life  is  not  so  much 
a  question  of  amusement  in  this  low  world  as  of  earning 
a  living;  among;  their  fellows.  But  in  Pere  Brulet's  home 
there  was  little  to  do  to  make  both  ends  meet.  The  old 
man  was  only  in  the  seventies,  and  being  a  good  work- 
man, very  clever  at  cutting  stone  (which,  you  know,  is 
quite    a    science   in   these   parts),  stead}',    and   much    in 


20  The  Bagpipers. 

demand  b}^  ever}'  one,  he  earned  a  good  living  ;  and,  thanks 
to  the  fact  of  being  a  widower  witli  no  one  to  support 
but  liis  granddaughter,  he  had  laid  bj  quite  a  little  sum 
against  illness  or  accident.  Fortunately  he  kept  his 
health,  so  that,  without  riches,  he  was  never  in  want. 

M}'  father,  however,  declared  that  Brulette  loved  ease 
and  comfort  too  well ;  meaning  by  that,  that  she  might 
have  to  come  down  to  other  things  when  it  was  time  for 
her  to  marrj'.  He  agreed  with  me  that  she  was  as  sweet 
and  amiable  in  her  ways  as  in  her  person  ;  but  he  would 
not  encourage  me  to  court  her  m  marriage.  She  was  too 
poor,  he  said,  to  be  a  lad}'^,  and  he  often  declared  that  a 
wife  should  be  either  rich  or  ver}-  full  of  energy.  "  At 
first  sight,  I  like  one  as  well  as  the  other,"  he  would  say ; 
"though  perhaps,  on  second  thoughts,  I  would  rather 
have  the  energy-  than  the  money.  But  Brulette  has  not 
enough  of  either  to  tempt  a  wise  man." 

I  knew  m}'  father  was  right ;  but  my  cousin's  sweet  eyes 
and  gentle  speech  had  more  influence  over  me  than  he 
could  have,  and  over  other  young  fellows  too,  —  for  3'ou 
must  know  that  I  was  not  the  only  one.  From  the  time 
she  was  fifteen  she  was  surrounded  with  striplings  like  nie, 
whom  she  knew  how  to  restrain  and  order  about  as  she 
had  done  in  her  childish  da3'S.  You  might  sa}'  she  was 
born  proud,  and  knew  her  value  long  before  compliments 
had  given  her  an  idea  of  it.  She  loved  praise  and  sub- 
mission, and  while  she  never  alloweii  any  one  to  make  free 
with  her,  she  was  ver}-  willing  they  sliould  love  her  timidly. 
I,  like  a  good  man}'  others,  was  filled  with  the  strongest 
desire  to  please  her,  and  at  the  same  time  I  was  often 
anno3'ed  to  find  m3'self  onty  one  of  a  crowd. 

Two  of  us,  however,  were  privileged  to  talk  to  her 
rather  more  iiitimatelv,  and  to  walk  home  with  her  when 


The  Bagpipers.  21 

we  met  at  a  dance,  or  after  church.  I  mean  Joseph  Picot 
and  I.  But  we  gahied  little  or  nothing  by  that ;  and 
perhaps,  without  saying  so,  we  laid  the  blame  to  each 
other. 

Joseph  was  still  on  the  farm  at  Aulnieres,  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  from  Brulette's  house,  and  half  that  distance 
from  mine.  He  was  a  mere  laborer.  Though  he  was  not 
reall}'  handsome,  some,  who  did  not  object  to  a  melancholy 
face,  might  think  him  so.  His  face  was  lean  and  3'ellow, 
and  his  brown  hair,  falling  straight  from  his  head  and 
down  his  cheeks,  made  him  even  more  pun\'  in  appearance. 
Nevertheless,  he  was  not  ill-made,  nor  ungraceful  in  bod}^ 
and  there  was  something  in  his  closed  jaw  which  always 
seemed  to  me  the  reverse  of  weakness.  He  was  thought 
ill  because  he  moved  slowh'  and  had  none  of  the  ga3'et3'  of 
youth  ;  but  seeing  him  often,  as  1  did,  I  knew  it  was  his 
nature  to  be  so,  and  that  he  reall}'  was  not  suffering 
at  all. 

He  was,  however,  a  very  poor  laborer  of  the  soil,  not 
over  careful  with  cattle,  and  far  from  agreeable  in  temper. 
His  wages  were  the  lowest  that  were  ever  paid  to  a  plough- 
boy,  and  people  were  surprised  that  his  master  still  kept 
him  ;  for  nothing  prospered  with  him,  either  in  the  stable 
or  the  fields,  and  he  was  so  sullen  when  reproved  that 
no  one  could  do  anything  with  him.  But  Pere  Michel 
declared  that  he  never  gave  an}'  angry  answer,  and  he 
preferred  those  who  submitted  without  a  word,  even  if 
they  did  have  sulk}'  looks,  to  those  who  deceived  you 
wilh   flatter}'. 

His  faithfulness  and  the  contempt  he  showed  at  all 
times  for  injustice  made  his  master  respect  him,  though 
he  often  remarked  what  a  pity  it  was  that  an  honest, 
upright  lad  had  such  soft  muscles  and  a  mind  so  indiffer- 


22  The  Bagpipers. 

ent  to  his  work.  But  he  kept  him  for  what  he  was  worth, 
from  habit,  and  also  out  of  consideration  for  Pere  Brulet, 
who  was  one  of  Pere  Michel's  earliest  friends. 

In  what  I  have  said  of  Joseph  you  will  readily  see  that 
he  could  not  please  the  girls.  Indeed,  they  never  looked 
at  him,  except  to  wonder  why  the}^  never  caught  his  e3'e, 
which  was  large  and  clear  as  an  owl's  and  never  seemed 
to  see  anything. 

Yet  I  was  always  jealous  of  him,  because  Brulette  paid 
him  more  attention  than  she  gave  to  any  one  else,  and 
obliged  me  to  do  the  same.  She  no  longer  lectured  him, 
and  openly  accepted  his  temper  as  God  made  it,  without 
getting  angr}^  or  seeming  at  all  annoyed.  She  forgave 
him  his  want  of  gallantr}',  and  even  politeness,  —  two  things 
which  she  exacted  from  the  rest  of  us.  He  might  do  all 
sorts  of  stupid  things,  —  such  as  sit  down  on  a  chair  if  she 
left  it  for  a  moment,  and  oblige  her  to  find  another ;  or 
neglect  to  pick  up  her  balls  of  wool  when  they  rolled  away  ; 
or  break  a  bodkin  or  some  other  sewing  utensil,  —  he 
might  do  all  such  things,  and  she  would  never  sa}^  an  im- 
patient word  to  him  ;  whereas  she  scolded  and  ridiculed 
me  if  I  did  a  tenth  part  of  them. 

Then,  she  took  care  of  him  as  if  he  were  a  brother. 
She  kept  a  bit  of  meat  put  by  for  him  when  he  came  to 
see  her,  and  made  him  eat  it  whether  he  was  hungry 
or  not,  tolling  him  he  ought  to  strengthen  his  stomach 
and  make  blood.  She  had  an  eye  to  his  clothes  just  like 
Mariton,  and  even  took  upon  herself  to  make  him  new 
ones,  saying  that  his  mother  had  not  time  to  cut  and  sew 
them.  Sometimes  she  would  lead  her  cattle  to  pasture 
over  where  he  was  at  work,  and  talked  to  him  ;  though  he 
talked  very  little,  and  very  badly  when  he  tried  to  do  so. 

Besides  all  this,  she  would  not  allow  an}'  one  to  treat 


The  Bagpipers.  23 

bill!  vvith  contempt,  or  to  make  fun  of  his  melancholy  face 
ajid  his  staring  ej^es.  To  all  such  remarks  she  replied  that 
his  health  was  not  good ;  also  that  he  was  not  more  stupid 
than  other  people ;  if  he  talked  little,  it  was  not  that  he 
did  not  think ;  and;  in  short,  that  it  was  better  to  be 
silent  than  to  talk  a  great  deal  with  nothing  to  sa}'. 

Sometimes  I  was  tem-pted  to  contradict  her  ;  but  she 
quickly  cut  me  short  b}'  saying,  — 

'^  You  must  have  a  very  bad  heart,  Tiennet,  to  abandon 
that  poor  lad  to  the  jeers  of  others,  instead  of  defending 
him  when  they  torment  him.  I  thought  better  of  you 
than  that." 

Then  of  course  I  did  her  will,  and  defended  Joseph ; 
though  for  m}"  part  I  could  not  see  what  illness  or  afflic- 
tion he  had,  unless  laziness  and  distrust  were  infirmities 
of  nature,  —  which  might  be  possible  ;  though  it  certainl}' 
seemed  to  me  in  the  power  of  man  to  subdue  them. 

On  his  side,  Joseph,  without  showing  an  aversion  for 
me,  treated  me  just  as  coldly  as  he  did  the  rest,  and  never 
appeared  to  remember  the  assistance  he  got  from  me  in 
his  various  encounters.  Whether  he  cared  for  Brulette, 
like  all  the  others,  or  whether  he  cared  only  for  himself, 
he  smiled  in  a  strange  manner  and  with  an  air  of  con- 
tempt whenever  she  gave  me  the  most  trifling  mark  of 
friendship. 

One  da}',  when  he  had  pushed  the  thing  so  far  as  to 
shrug  his  shoulders,  I  resolved  to  have  an  explanation 
with  him,  —  as  quietly  as  possible,  so  as  not  to  displease 
my  cousin,  but  frankl}'  enough  to  make  him  feel  that  if  I 
put  up  with  him  in  her  presence  with  great  patience,  I 
expected  him  to  treat  me  in  the  same  way.  But  as  on 
that  occasion  a  number  of  Brulette's  other  lovers  were 
present,  I  put  off  doing  this  until  the  first  time  I  should 


24  The  Bagpipers, 

find  him  alone.  Accordingly,  I  went  the  next  da}'  to  join 
him  in  a  field  where  he  was  at  work. 

I  was  a  good  deal  surprised  to  find  Brulette  with  him, 
sitting  on  the  roots  of  a  big  tree  b}'  the  side  of  a  ditch, 
where  he  was  supposed  to  be  cutting  brush  to  make  pegs. 
But  in  fact  he  was  cutting  nothing  at  all ;  though  b}'  way 
of  work  he  was  whittling  something  which  he  quickly  put 
in  his  pocket  as  soon  as  he  saw  me,  closing  his  knife  and 
beginning  to  talk  as  if  I  had  been  his  master  and  had 
caught  him  in  a  fault,  or  as  if  he  had  been  saying  secret 
things  to  my  cousin  which  I  had  interrupted. 

I  was  so  troubled  and  vexed  that  I  was  going  away 
without  a  word,  when  Brulette  called  to  me,  and  beginning 
to  knit  (for  she  too  had  laid  aside  her  work  while  talking 
to  him),  she  told  me  to  sit  down  beside  her. 

It  struck  me  it  was  onl}"  a  sop  to  soothe  my  vexation,  so 
I  refused,  sa3'ingthat  the  weather  was  not  pleasant  enough 
to  sit  about  in  ditches.  And  trul}',  though  not  cold,  it  was 
A^ery  damp ;  the  thaw  had  made  the  brook  full  and  the 
grass  muddy.  There  was  still  a  little  snow  in  the  furrows, 
and  the  wind  was  disagreeable.  According  to  my  notions, 
Brulette  must  have  thought  Joseph  ver}^  interesting  to 
make  her  lead  her  flock  out  there  in  such  weather  —  she 
who  so  often  and  so  readilj'  turned  them  over  to  the  care 
of  her  neighbor. 

"Jose,"  said  Brulette,  "our  friend  Tiennet  is  sulky 
because  he  sees  we  have  a  secret  between  us.  Won't 
3'ou  let  me  tell  it  to  him?  His  advice  will  do  no  harm, 
and  he  will  tell  3'ou  just  what  he  thinks  of  3'our 
idea.'' 

"  He!"  said  Joseph,  beginning  to  shrug  his  shoulders 
just  as  had  done  the  night  before. 

"Does  your  back  itch  whenever  3'ou  see  me?"  I  said 


The  Bagpipers,  25 

to  him,  spiteful!}'.  "  I  can  scratch  you  in  a  wa}'  that  will 
cure  3'ou  once  for  all." 

He  looked  at  me  from  under  his  lids  as  if  read}'  to  bite 
me  ;  but  Brulette  touched  him  gently  on  the  shoulder  with 
the  end  of  her  distaff,  and  calling  him  to  her,  she  whispered 
in  his  ear. 

"  No,  no  !  "  he  answered,  without  taking  the  trouble  to 
hide  his  answer.  "  Tiennet  is  no  good  at  all  to  advise 
me,  —  he  knows  no  more  than  your  goat ;  and  if  you  tell 
him  the  least  thing,  I  won't  tell  you  anything  more."     | 

Thereupon  he  picked  up  his  shears  and  his  chopper,  and 
went  to  work  at  some  distance. 

"There!"  said  Brulette,  rising  to  call  in  her  flock, 
"  now  he  is  cross.  But  never  mind,  Tiennet,  it  is  nothing 
serious, —  I  knov»^  his  fancies  ;  there  is  nothing  to  be  done, 
and  indeed  the  best  way  is  to  let  him  alone.  He  's  a  lad 
who  has  had  a  bee  in  his  bonnet  ever  since  he  came  into 
the  world.  He  does  n't  know  how  to  express  what  he 
feels,  and  he  really  can't.  It  is  better,  therefore,  to  leave 
him  to  himself;  for  if  one  worries  him  with  questions,  he 
only  cries,  and  then  we  have  hurt  his  feelings  for  nothing." 

"  It  is  my  opinion,  though,"  I  said  to  Brulette,  "  that 
you  know  how  to  make  him  confess  himself." 

"  I  was  mistaken,"  she  answered  ;  ''I  thought  he  had 
some  much  worse  trouble.  It  would  make  you  laugh  if  I 
could  tell  you  what  the  trouble  really  is  ;  but  as  he  chooses 
to  tell  no  one  but  me,  let  us  think  no  more  about  it." 

"If  it  is  such  a  little  thing,"  I  persisted,  "you  would 
not  take  so  much  interest  in  it." 

"  Do  3'Ou  think  I  take  too  much?"  she  said.  "  Don't 
I  owe  it  to  the  woman  who  brought  him  into  the  world 
and  who  brought  me  up  with  more  care  and  kindness  than 
she  gave  to  her  own  child  ?  " 


26  The  Bagpipers. 


(.L 


That 's  a  good  reason,  Brulette.  If  it  is  Mariton  you 
love  ill  her  son,  very  good ;  in  that  case,  I  wish  Mariton 
was  my  mother,  —  it  would  be  better  for  me  than  being 
^•our  cousin." 

"  Leave  that  sort  of  nonsense  to  m}'  other  sweethearts," 
answered  Brulette,  blushing  a  little.  But  no  compliments 
ever  came  amiss  to  her,  though  she  pretended  to  laugh 
at   them. 

As  we  left  the  fields  just  opposite  to  my  house  she 
came  in  with  me  to  say  good-evening  to  m}^  sister. 

But  my  sister  was  out,  and  Brulette  could  not  wait, 
because  her  sheep  were  in  the  road.  In  order  to  keep 
her  a  moment,  I  bethought  me  of  taking  off  her  sabots,  to 
remove  the  lumps  of  snow,  and  drying  them.  And  so, 
holding  her  as  it  were  by  the  paws,  —  for  she  was  obliged 
to  sit  down  while  she  waited  for  me  to  finish,  —  I  tried  to 
tell  her,  better  than  I  had  ever  yet  dared  to  do,  the  trouble 
my  love  for  her  was  piling  up  in  my  heart. 

But  there  !  see  the  devilish  thing,  —  I  could  n't  get  out  the 
crowning  word  of  it.  I  managed  the  second  and  the  third, 
but  the  first  wouldn't  come.  My  forehead  was  sweating. 
The  girl  could  have  helped  me  out,  if  she  onty  would,  for 
she  knew  the  tune  of  my^  song  well  enough ;  others  bad 
sung  it  to  her  already.  But  with  Brulette,  one  had  to 
have  patience  and  discretion ;  and  though  I  was  not  al- 
together new  at  gallant  speeches,  those  I  had  exchanged 
with  others  who  were  less  diflTicult  than  Brulette  (just  b}" 
way  of  getting  my  hand  in)  had  taught  me  nothing  that 
was  proper  to  say  to  a  high-priced  young  girl  like  my 
cousin. 

All  that  I  could  manage  was  to  hark  back  to  the  sub- 
ject of  her  favorite,  Joseph.  At  first  she  laughed  ;  then, 
little  by  little,  seeing  that  I  was  seriously  finding  fault 


The  Bagpipers,  27 

with  him,  she  became  herself  serious.  "  Let  the  poor 
lad  alone,"  she  said  ;  "he  is  much  to  be  pitied." 

"  But  why  and  wherefore?  Is  he  consumptive,  or  crazy, 
that  3'ou  are  so  afraid  of  his  being  meddled  with  ?  " 

"He  is  worse  than  that,"  answered  Brulette ;  "he  is 
an  egotist." 

"  Egotist "  was  one  of  the  curate's  words  which  Brulette 
had  picked  up,  though  it  was  not  used  among  us  in  m}^ 
day.  Brulette  had  a  wonderful  memory ;  and  tbat  was 
how  she  sometimes  came  out  with  words  which  I  might 
have  recollected  too,  onh^  I  did  not,  and  consequently 
I  could  not  understand  them. 

I  was  too  sh}'  to  ask  her  for  an  explanation  and  admit 
m}'  ignorance.  Besides,  I  imagined  it  was  a  mortal  illness  ; 
and  I  felt  that  such  a  great  affliction  convicted  me  of 
Injustice.  I  begged  Brulette's  pardon  for  having  annoyed 
her,  adding,  — 

"  If  1  had  known  what  yow  tell  me  sooner,  I  should  n't 
have  felt  any  bitterness  or  rancor  for  the  poor  fellow." 

"  How  came  3'Ou  never  to  notice  it?  "  she  said.  "  Don't 
you  see  how  he  makes  every  one  give  wa}'  to  him  and 
obUge  him,  without  ever  dreaming  of  thanking  them  ;  how 
the  least  neglect  affronts  him,  and  the  slightest  joke  angers 
him ;  how  he  sulks  and  suffers  about  things  nobod}'  else 
would  ever  notice  ;  and  how  one  must  put  one's  best  self 
into  a  friendship  with  him  without  his  ever  comprehending 
that  it  is  not  his  due,  but  an  offering  made  to  God  of  love 
to  our  neighbor  ?  " 

"  Is  that  the  effect  of  illness?"  I  asked,  a  little  puzzled 
by  Brulette's  explanation. 

* '  Is  n't  it  the  very  worst  thing  he  can  have  in  his 
heart?"  she  replied. 

"  Does  his  mother  know  he  has  something  the  matter 
with  his  heart?" 


28  The  Bagpipers. 

"She  guesses  at  it;  but,  3'ou  see,  I  can't  talk  to  her 
about  it  for  fear  of  grieving  her." 

"Has  no  one  tried  to  cure  him?" 

"  I  have  clone,  and  I  mean  to  do,  my  best,"  she  an- 
swered, continuing  a  topic  on  which  we  didn't  understand 
each  other ;  "  but  I  think  my  way  of  managing  him  only 
makes  him  worse." 

"It  is  true,"  I  said,  after  reflecting  awhile,  "  that  the 
fellow  always  did  have  something  queer  about  him.  My 
grandmother,  who  is  dead,  —  and  you  know  how  she 
piqued  herself  on  foretelling  the  future,  —  said  he  had 
misfortune  written  on  his  face ;  that  he  was  doomed  to 
live  in  misery  or  to  die  in  the  flower  of  his  age,  because  of 
a  line  he  has  on  his  forehead.  Ever  since  then,  I  declare  to 
you  that  when  Joseph  is  gloomy  I  see  that  line  of  ill-luck, 
though  I  never  knew  where  my  grandmother  saw  it.  At 
such  times  I  'm  afraid  of  him,  or  rather  of  his  fate,  and  I 
feel  led  to  spare  him  blame  and  annoyance  as  if  he  was 
not  long  for  this  world." 

"Bah!"  said  Brulette,  laughing,  "nothing  but  my 
great-aunt's  fancies  !  I  remember  them  \QYy  well.  Did  n't 
she  also  tell  you  that  light  eyes,  like  Joseph's,  can  see 
spirits  and  hidden  things?  As  for  me,  I  don't  belicA'e  U 
word  of  it,  neither  do  I  think  he  is  in  danger  of  dying. 
People  live  a  long  time  with  a  mind  like  his  ;  the}'  take 
their  comfort  in  worrying  others,  though  perhaps,  while 
threatening  to  die,  they  will  live  to  bur}'  all  about  them." 

I  could  not  understand  what  she  said,  and  I  was  going 
to  question  her  further,  when  she  asked  for  her  sabots  and 
slipped  her  feet  easily  into  thorn,  though  they  were  so 
small  I  couldn't  get  my  hand  in.  Then,  calling  to  her 
dog  and  shortening  her  petticoat,  she  left  me,  quite 
anxious  and  puzzled  by  all  she  said,  and  as  little  ad- 
vanced as  over  in  my  courtship. 


The  Bagpipers.  29 

The  following  Sunda}^  as  she  was  starting  for  mass  at 
Saint-Chartier,  where  she  liked  better  to  go  than  to  our 
own  parish  church,  because  there  was  dancing  in  the 
market-place  between  mass  and  vespers,  I  asked  if  I 
could  go  with  her. 

"No,"  she  said.  "I  am  going  with  my  grandfather; 
and  he  does  not  like  a  crowd  of  sweethearts  after  me 
along  the  roads." 

"  I  am  not  a  crowd  of  sweethearts,"  I  said.  "  I  am 
3'our  cousin,  and  my  uncle  never  wanted  me  out  of  his 
way." 

''  Well,  keep  out  of  mine  now,"  she  said,  —  "  only  for 
to-day.  My  father  and  I  want  to  talk  with  Jose,  who  is 
in  the  house  and  is  going  to  mass  with  us." 

*'  Then  he  has  come  to  propose  marriage  ;  and  you  are 
glad  enough  to  listen  to  him." 

"  Are  3'ou  crazy,  Tiennet?  After  all  I  told  j'ou  about 
Jose  !  " 

"  You  told  me  he  had  an  illness  that  would  make  him 
live  longer  than  other  people  ;  and  I  don't  see  what  there 
is  in  that  to  quiet  me." 

''  Quiet  3'ou  for  what?"  exclaimed  Brulette,  astonished. 
''  What  illness?  Where  are  your  wits?  Upon  m}'  word, 
I  think  all  the  men  are  craz}' !  " 

Then,  taking  her  grandfather's  arm,  who  just  then  came 
out  of  the  house  with  Jose,  she  started,  as  light  as  a 
feather  and  ga}^  as  a  fawn,  while  my  good  uncle,  who 
thought  there  was  nothing  like  her,  smiled  at  the  passers- 
b}'  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  have  no  such  girl  as  that 
to  show  ! " 

I  followed  them  at  a  distance,  to  see  if  Joseph  drew 
any  closer  to  her  on  the  way,  and  whether  she  took  his 
arm,  and  whether  the  old  man  left  them  together.     Noth- 


o 


0  The  Bagpipers. 


ing  of  the  kind.  Joseph  walked  all  the  time  at  my  uncle's 
left,  and  Brulette  on  his  right,  and  they  seemed  to  be 
talking  gravel}'. 

After  the  service  I  asked  Brulette  to  dance  with  me. 

"Oh,  3'ou  are  too  late ! "  she  said  ;  "I  have  promised 
at  least  fifteen  dances.  You  must  come  back  about  vesper 
time." 

This  annoyance  did  not  include  Joseph,  for  he  never 
danced ;  and  to  avoid  seeing  Brulette  surrounded  by  her 
other  swains,  I  followed  him  into  the  inn  of  the  "  Boeuf 
Couronne,"  where  he  went  to  see  his  mother,  and  I  to  kill 
time  with  a  few  friends. 

I  was  rather  a  frequenter  of  wine-shops,  as  I  have 
alread}'  told  3'ou,  —  not  because  of  the  bottle,  which  never 
got  the  better  of  m}'  senses,  but  from  a  liking  for  company 
and  talk  and  sono;s.  I  found  several  lads  and  lasses 
whom  I  knew  and  with  whom  I  sat  down  to  table,  while 
Joseph  sat  in  a  corner,  not  drinking  a  drop  or  saying  a 
word,  —  sitting  there  to  please  his  mother,  who  liked  to 
look  at  him  and  throw  him  a  word  now  and  then  as  she 
passed  and  repassed.  I  don't  know  if  it  ever  occurred  to 
Joseph  to  help  her  in  the  hard  work  of  serving  so  many 
people,  but  Benoit  would  n't  have  allowed  such  an  absent- 
minded  fellow  to  stumble  about  among  his  dishes  and 
bottles. 

You  have  heard  tell  of  the  late  Benoit?  He  was  a  fat 
man  with  a  topping  air,  rather  rough  in  speech,  but  a  good 
liver  and  a  fine  talker  when  occasion  served.  He  was 
upright  enough  to  treat  Mariton  with  the  respect  she  de- 
served ;  for  she  was,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  queen  of  ser- 
vants, and  Benoit's  house  had  never  had  so  much  custom 
as  while  she  reigned  over  it. 

The  thing  Pere  Brulet  warned  her  of  never  happened. 


The  Bagpipers.  31 

The  danger  of  the  business  cured  her  of  coquetr}',  and  she 
kept  her  own  person  as  safe  as  she  did  the  propert}-  of  her 
master.  The  truth  is,  it  was  chiefl}'  for  her  son^s  sake 
that  she  had  brought  herself  down  to  harder  work  and 
greater  discretion  than  was  natural  to  her.  In  that  slie 
was  seen  to  be  so  good  a  mother  that  instead  of  losing  the 
respect  of  others,  she  had  gained  more  since  she  served  at 
the  inn  ;  and  that 's  a  thing  which  seldom  happens  in  our 
country  villages,  —  nor  elsewhere,  as  I  've  heard  tell. 

Seeing  that  Joseph  was  paler  and  gloomier  than  usual, 
the  thought  of  what  my  grandmother  had  said  of  him, 
together  with  the  illness  (ver}'  queer,  it  seemed  to  me) 
which  Brulette  imputed  to  him,  somehow  struck  my  mind 
and  touched  my  heart.  No  doubt  he  was  still  angry  with 
me  for  the  harsh  words  I  had  used  to  him.  I  wanted  to 
make  him  forget  them,  and  to  force  him  to  sit  at  our  table, 
thinking  I  could  unawares  make  him  a  trifle  drunk ;  for, 
like  others  of  m}'  age,  I  tlioiight  the  fumes  of  a  little  good 
white  wine  a  sovereign  cure  for  low  spirits. 

Joseph,  who  paid  little  attention  to  what  was  going  on 
around  him,  let  us  fill  his  glass  and  nudge  his  elbow  so 
often  that  any  one  but  he  would  soon  have  felt  the  effects. 
Those  who  were  inciting  him  to  drink,  and  thoughtlessly 
setting  him  the  example,  soon  had  too  much ;  but  I,  who 
wanted  m}-  legs  for  the  dance,  stopped  short  as  soon  as 
I  felt  that  I  had  had  enough.  Joseph  fell  into  a  deep 
cogitation,  leaned  his  two  elbows  on  the  table,  and  seemed 
to  me  neither  brighter  nor  duller  than  he  was  before. 

No  one  paid  anj^  attention  to  him ;  ever^'bod}'  laughed 
and  chattered  on  their  own  account.  Some  began  to  sing, 
just  as  folks  sing  when  they  have  been  drinking,  each  in 
his  own  key  and  his  own  time,  one  fellow  trolling  his 
chorus  beside  another  who  trolls  his,  the  whole  together 


34  The  Bagpipers. 

My  relative  explained  the  road,  as  I  had  never  been 
in  the  forest  more  than  once  or  twice  in  my  life.  You 
know  that  in  these  parts  we  seldom  go  far  from  home, 
especially  those  of  us  who  till  the  ground,  and  keep  near 
our  dwellings  like  chicks  round  a  coop. 

So,  in  spite  of  a  warning,  I  kept  too  far  to  the  left ; 
and  instead  of  striking  a  great  avenue  of  oaks,  I  got 
among  the  birches,  at  least  a  mile  and  a  half  from  where 
I  ought  to  have  been. 

The  night  was  dark,  and  I  could  not  see  a  thing ;  for  in 
those  da3's  the  forest  of  Saint -Chartier  was  still  a  line 
one, —  not  as  to  size,  for  it  was  never  ver}^  large,  but  from 
the  age  of  the  trees,  which  allowed  no  light  from  the  sky 
to  get  through  them.  What  it  thus  gained  in  grandeur 
and  greenery  it  made  yon  pay  for  in  other  ways.  Below 
it  was  all  roots  and  brambles,  sunken  paths  and  gullies 
full  of  spongy  black  mud,  out  of  which  j'ou  could  hardly 
draw  your  feet,  and  where  you  sank  knee-deep  if  j^ou  got 
even  a  little  way  off  the  track.  Presently,  getting  lost 
in  the  forest  and  scratched  and  muddied  in  the  opens,  I 
began  to  curse  the  luckless  time  and  the  luckless  place. 

After  struggling  and  wading  till  I  was  overheated, 
though  the  night  was  chilly,  I  got  among  some  dr}"  brake 
which  were  up  to  my  chin  ;  and  looking  straight  before  me, 
I  saw  in  the  gray  of  the  night  something  like  a  huge  black 
mass  in  the  middle  of  an  open  tract.  I  felt  sure  it  was 
the  big  oak,  and  that  I  had  reached  the  end  of  the  forest. 
I  had  never  seen  the  tree,  but  I  had  heard  tell  of  it,  for  it 
was  famous  as  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  country  ;  and  from 
the  talk  of  others  I  knew  pretty  well  how  it  was  shaped. 
You  must  surel}^  have  seen  it.  It  is  a  gnarled  tree, 
topped  in  its  youth  b}^  some  accident  so  that  it  grew  in 
breadth   and    thickness ;    its    foliage,    shrivelled   hy   the 


The  Bagpipers.  35 

winter,  still  clung  to  it,  and  it  stood  up  there  like  a  rock 
looking:  to  heaven. 

I  was  about  to  go  towards  it,  thinking  I  should  find  the 
path,  which  made  a  straight  line  through  the  woods,  when 
I  heard  a  sound  of  music  that  was  something  like  bag- 
pipes, but  so  loud  3'ou  might  think  it  thunder. 

Don't  ask  me  why  a  thing  which  ought  to  have  com- 
forted me,  by  showing  the  presence  of  a  human  being,  did 
actually  frighten  me  like  a  child.  I  must  honestly  tell 
you  that  in  spite  of  my  nineteen  3'ears  and  a  good  pair  of 
fists,  I  had  not  felt  easy  after  I  found  I  had  lost  my  way. 
It  was  not  because  wolves  do  come  down  sometimes  into 
that  forest  from  the  great  woods  of  Saint-Aoust  that  I 
lost  heart,  nor  yet  that  I  feared  any  evil-intentioned  Chris- 
tian ;  but  I  was  chilled  through  with  the  kind  of  fear 
that  you  can't  explain  to  your  own  self,  because  you  don't 
really  know  the  cause  of  it.  The  dark  night ;  the  wintry 
fog ;  a  jumble  of  noises  heard  in  the  woods,  with  others 
coming  from  the  plain ;  a  crowd  of  foolish  stories  which 
3'ou  have  heard,  and  which  now  start  up  in  3'our  head  ;  and 
finally  the  idea  of  being  all  alone  far  from  3'our  own 
belongings,  — -  there's  enough  in  all  that  to  upset  your 
mind  when  you  are  young,  and,  indeed,  when  you  are 
old. 

You  can  laugh  at  me  if  3'ou  like  ;  but  that  music,  in 
that  lonel3^  place,  seemed  to  me  devilish.  It  was  too  loud 
and  strong  to  be  natural,  and  the  tune  was  so  sad  and 
strange  that  it  was  not  like  an\^  other  known  music  on 
this  Christian  earth.  I  quickened  m3'  steps ;  then  I 
stopped,  amazed  at  another  sound.  While  the  music 
clashed  on  one  side,  a  bell  chimed  on  the  other;  and  the 
two  sounds  came  at  me,  as  if  to  prevent  me  from  going 
forward  or  back. 


36  The  Bagpipers. 

I  jumped  to  one  side  and  hid  in  the  brake  ;  and  as  I  did 
so,  there  was  a  flash  of  Ught  about  four  feet  from  me,  and 
I  saw  a  large  black  animal,  that  I  could  n't  make  out 
distinctly,  spring  up  and  disappear  at  a  run. 

Instantly  from  all  parts  of  the  undergrowth  a  crowd  of 
the  same  animals  sprang  out,  stamping,  and  running  to- 
wards the  bell  and  towards  the  music,  which  now  seemed 
to  be  getting  nearer  to  each  other.  There  might  have  been 
two  hundred  of  these  animals,  but  I  saw  at  least  thirt}'' 
thousand ;  for  terror  got  hold  of  me,  and  I  began  to  see 
sparks  and  white  specks  in  my  ej-es,  such  as  fear  produces 
in  those  who  can't  defend  themselves. 

I  don't  know  whose  legs  carried  me  to  the  oak ;  I 
seemed  to  have  none  of  mj^  own.  But  I  got  there,  quite 
astonished  to  have  crossed  that  bit  of  ground  like  a  whirl- 
wind ;  and  when  I  recovered  breath  I  heard  nothing, 
neither  far  nor  near,  and  could  see  nothing  under  the 
tree  nor  3'et  in  the  brake,  and  was  not  quite  sure  that 
I  had  n't  dreamed  a  pandemonium  of  crazy  music  and  evil 
beasts. 

I  began  to  look  about  me  and  find  out  where  I  was. 
The  oak-branches  overhung  a  large  piece  of  grassy 
ground ;  it  was  so  dark  under  them  that  I  could  not  see 
m}^  feet,  and  I  stumbled  over  a  big  root  and  fell,  hands 
forward,  upon  the  body  of  a  man  who  was  lying  there  as 
if  asleep  or  dead.  I  don't  know  what  fear  made  me  sa}" 
or  shout,  but  at  any  rate  m}'  voice  was  recognized,  and 
that  of  Joseph  replied,  saying,  — 

"  Is  that  you,  Tiennet?  What  are  you  doing  here  at 
this  time  of  night  ?  " 

"And  3^ou  3'ourself,  what  are  3'ou  doing,  old  fellow?" 
I  replied,  much  pleased  and  comforted  to  have  found  him. 
*'  I  have  looked  evcrj' where  for  you.     Your  mother  was 


The  Bagpipers.  37 

worrying,    and   I   hoped  3'ou  had  got  back  to  her  long 
ago." 

"  I  had  business  over  here,"  he  repHed,  "  and  before 
starting  back  I  wanted  to  rest,  that 's  all." 

*'  Were  not  you  afraid  of  being  here  alone  at  night  in 
this  hideous,  gloomy  place?" 

"Afraid  of  what?  Why  should  I  be  afraid,  Tiennet? 
I  don't  understand  you." 

I  was  ashamed  to  confess  what  a  fool  I  had  been. 
Still,  I  did  venture  to  ask  if  he  had  n't  seen  people  and 
animals  in  the  open. 

"Yes,  3'es,"  he  said,  "  I  have  seen  plenty  of  animals, 
and  people  too ;  but  they  are  not  mischievous,  and  we 
can  go  away  together  without  their  harming  us." 

I  fancied  from  his  voice  that  he  was  sneering  at  my 
fears.  I  left  the  oak  as  he  did  ;  but  when  we  got  out  of 
its  shadow,  I  fancied  that  Jose's  face  and  figure  were  not 
the  same  as  usual.  He  seemed  to  me  taller,  and  carried 
his  head  higher,  walking  quickly,  and  speaking  with  more 
energy  than  naturally  belonged  to  him.  This  did  not 
ease  m}'  mind,  for  all  sorts  of  queer  recollections  crossed 
it.  It  was  not  from  my  grandmother  only  that  I  had 
heard  tell  that  folks  with  white  faces  and  green  eyes, 
gloomy  tempers  and  speech  that  3'Ou  could  n't  understand, 
were  apt  to  consort  with  evil  spirits  ;  and  in  all  countries, 
as  you  know,  old  trees  are  said  to  be  haunted  by  sorcerers 
and  other  such. 

I  hardly  dared  to  breathe  as  long  as  we  were  in  the 
undergrowth.  I  kept  expecting  to  see  the  same  things  I 
had  either  dreamed  in  m\"  brain  or  seen  with  my  senses. 
But  all  was  still ;  there  was  no  sound  except  the  breaking 
of  the  dried  branches  as  we  went  alono;,  or  the  crunchins: 
of  the  remains  of  ice  under  our  feet. 


38  The  Bagpipers* 

Joseph,  who  walked  in  front,  did  not  follow  the  main 
path,  but  cut  across  the  covert.  You  would  have  thought 
he  was  a  hare,  well  acquainted  with  the  ins  and  outs,  and 
he  led  me  so  quickl}^  to  the  ford  of  the  Tgneraie,  with- 
out crossing  the  potter's  village,  that  it  seemed  as  if  I 
got  there  by  magic.  Then  he  left  me,  without  having 
opened  his  lips,  except  to  say  that  he  wished  to  show 
himself  to  his  mother,  as  she  was  worried  about  him  ;  and 
he  followed  the  road  to  Saint-Chartier,  while  I  took  a 
short   cut  through  the  two  parishes  to  m}^  own  house. 

I  no  sooner  found  myself  in  the  places  I  was  familiar 
with  than  my  terror  left  me,  and  I  was  very  much  ashamed 
not  to  have  conquered  it.  Joseph  would  no  doubt  have 
told  me  the  things  I  wanted  to  know  if  I  had  onl}'  asked 
him  ;  for,  for  once  in  his  life,  he  had  lost  his  sleepy  air, 
and  I  had  even  detected  for  an  instant  a  sort  of  laugh  in 
his  voice,  and  something  in  his  behavior  like  a  wish  to 
give  assistance. 

However,  when  I  had  slept  upon  the  adventure,  and 
my  senses  were  calmer,  I  was  convinced  that  I  had  not 
dreamed  what  I  had  seen  in  the  undergi'owth,  and  I  began 
to  think  there  was  something  queer  about  Joseph's  tran- 
quillity under  the  oak.  The  animals  that  I  had  seen  in 
such  number  were  certainl}'  not  an  ordinary  sight.  In  our 
part  of  the  country  we  have  no  flocks,  except  sheep,  and 
those  I  had  seen  were  animals  of  another  color  and 
another  shape.  The}^  were  neither  horses  nor  cattle  nor 
sheep  nor  goats ;  besides,  no  animals  were  allowed  to 
pasture  in  the  forest. 

Now,  as  I  tell  you  all  this,  I  think  I  was  a  great  fool. 
And  yet  there  's  a  deal  that 's  unknown  in  the  affairs  of 
this  world  into  which  a  man  sticks  his  nose,  and  more  still 
in  God's  afl'airs,  which  He  chooses  to  keep  secret.     Any- 


The  Bagpipers,  39 

how,  I  did  not  venture  to  question  Joseph  ;  for  though  3'ou 
may  be  inquisitive  about  good  things,  you  ought  not  to  be 
so  about  evil  ones  ;    and,  indeed,  a  wise  man   feels   re 
luctant  to  poke  into  matters  where  he  may  find  a  good 
deal  more  than  he  looks  for. 


40  The  Bagpipers. 


FOURTH   EVENING. 

One  thing  gave  me  still  more  to  think  about  in  the  fol- 
lowing days.  It  was  discovered  in  Aulnieres  that  Joseph 
every  now  and  then  stayed  out  at  night. 

People  joked  about  it,  thinking  he  had  a  love-affair ; 
but  it  was  no  use  following  and  watching  him,  no  one 
ever  saw  him  turn  to  inhabited  parts,  or  speak  to  a  living 
person.  He  went  away  across  the  fields  into  the  open 
country  so  quickly  and  slyly  that  it  was  impossible  to  find 
out  his  secret.  He  returned  about  dawn,  and  went  to 
work  like  the  rest ;  but  instead  of  being  weary,  he  seemed 
livelier  and  more  contented  than  usual. 

This  was  noticed  three  times  in  the  course  of  the  win- 
ter, which  was  ver}-  long  and  very  severe  that  3'ear.  But 
neither  the  snow  nor  the  north  wind  was  able  to  keep 
Joseph  from  going  off  at  night  when  the  fanc}'  took  him. 
People  imagined  he  was  one  of  those  who  walk  or  work 
in  their  sleep ;  but  it  was  nothing  of  the  kind,  as  you 
will  see. 

On  Christmas  Eve,  as  Veret,  the  sabot-maker,  was  an 
his  way  to  keep  the  midnight  feast  with  his  parents  at 
Ourouer,  he  saw  under  the  big  elm  Rateau,  not  the  giant 
who  is  said  to  walk  under  it  with  a  rake  on  his  shoulder, 
but  a  tall  dark  man  who  did  not  have  a  good  face,  and 
who  was  whispering  quite  low  to  another  man  not  so  tall, 
and  who  had  a  more  Christian  kind  of  look.  Veret  was 
not  actually  afraid,  and  he  passed  near  enough  to  listen  to 
what  they  were  saying.     But  as  soon  as  the  other  two  saw 


Tfie  Bagpipers.  41 

him,  they  separated.  The  dark  man  made  off,  nobody 
knows  where,  and  his  comrade,  coming  up  to  Veret,  said  to 
him  in  a  strangled  sort  of  voice,  — 

"  Where  are  3'ou  going,  Denis  Veret?" 

The  shoemaker  began  to  be  uneas}^ ;  and  knowing  that 
you  must  not  speak  to  the  things  of  darkness,  especially 
near  an  evil  tree,  he  continued  his  way  without  looking 
round  ;  but  he  was  followed  by  the  being  he  took  to  be  a 
spirit,  who  walked  behind,  keeping  step  with  him. 

When  they  reached  the  end  of  the  open  ground  the 
pursuer  turned  to  the  left,  saying,  "  Good-night,  Denis 
Veret !  " 

And  then  for  the  first  time  Veret  recognized  Joseph, 
and  laughed  at  his  own  fears ;  but  still  without  being 
able  to  imagine  for  what  purpose  and  in  whose  company 
Joseph  had  come  to  the  big  elm  between  one  and  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

When  this  last  affair  came  to  my  knowledge  I  felt  very 
sorry,  and  reproached  myself  for  not  trying  to  turn  Joseph 
from  the  evil  ways  he  seemed  to  be  taking.  But  I  had  let 
so  much  time  elapse  I  did  not  hke  to  take  the  matter  up 
then.  I  spoke  to  Brulette,  who  only  made  fun  of  it ;  from 
which  I  began  to  believe  they  had  a  secret  love  for  each 
other  of  which  I  had  been  the  dupe,  like  other  folks  who 
tried  to  see  magic  in  it  and  onl}'  saw  fire. 

I  was  more  grieved  than  angry.  Joseph,  so  slack  at 
his  work  and  so  crank}',  seemed  to  me  a  weak  stay  and  a 
poor  companion  for  Brulette.  I  could  have  told  her  that 
(putting  myself  entirely  out  of  the  question)  she  could 
have  plaj'ed  a  better  game  with  her  cards  ;  but  I  was  afraid 
to  say  it,  thinking  I  might  make  her  angry,  and  so  lose  her 
friendship,  which  seemed  to  me  very  sweet,  even  without 
her  other  favors. 


42  The  Bagpipers. 

One  night,  coming  home,  I  found  Joseph  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  fountain  which  is  called  the  Font  de  Fond. 
My  house,  then  known  by  the  name  of  "God's  cross- 
ing," because  it  was  built  where  two  roads,  since  altered, 
crossed  each  other,  looked  out  upon  that  fine  greensward 
which  you  saw  not  long  ago  sold  and  cut  up  as  waste 
land,  —  a  great  misfortune  for  the  poor,  who  used  it  as  a 
common  to  feed  their  beasts,  but  had  n't  enough  money 
to  buy  it.  It  was  a  wide  bit  of  pasture-land,  ver}^  green, 
and  watered  here  and  there  b}^  the  brook,  which  was  not 
kept  within  bounds  but  ran  as  it  pleased  through  the  grass, 
cropped  short  b}^  the  flocks,  and  alwa3^s  pleasing  to  the  eye 
as  it  stretched  away  in  the  distance. 

I  contented  myself  with  bidding  Joseph  good-evening ; 
but  he  rose  and  walked  beside  me,  as  if  seeking  a  conver- 
sation, and  seemed  so  agitated  that  I  was  quite  uneasy 
about  him. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  I  said  at  last, 
seeing  that  he  was  talking  at  random,  and  twisting  his 
body  and  groaning  as  though  he  had  stepped  on  an 
ant-hill. 

"  How  can  yon  ask  me?"  he  said,  impatientl3\  "Is  it 
nothing  to  you  ?     Are  you  deaf?  " 

"Who?  wh}^?  what  is  it?"  I  cried,  thinking  he  must 
see  some  vision,  and  not  very  anxious  to  share  it. 

Then  I  listened,  and  heard  in  the  distance  the  sound  of 
a  bagpipe,  which  seemed  to  me  natural  enough. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  that's  only  some  musician  return- 
ing from  a  wedding  over  at  Berthenoux.  Why  should 
that  annoy  you?" 

Joseph  answered  with  an  air  of  decision,  — 

"That  is  Carnat's  bagpipe,  but  he  is  not  playing  it;  it 
is  some  one  more  clumsy  even  than  he." 


The  Bagpipers,  43 

"Clumsy?  Do  you  call  Carnat  clumsy  with  the  bag- 
pipe ?  " 

"  Not  clumsy  with  his  hands,  but  clums}'  in  his  ideas, 
Tiennet.  Poor  man,  he  is  not  worthy  of  the  blessing  of 
a  bagpipe !  and  that  fellow  who  is  trying  it  now  deserves 
that  the  good  God  should  stop  his  breath." 

"  That 's  very  strange  talk,  and  I  don't  know  where  you 
have  picked  it  up.  How  do  you  know  that  is  Carnat's 
bagpipe?  It  seems  to  me  that  bagpipes  are  all  alike,  and 
grunt  in  the  same  wa}'.  I  do  hear  that  the  one  down  there 
is  not  properly  played,  and  the  tune  is  rather  choked  otf; 
but  that  does  n't  trouble  me,  for  I  could  n't  do  as  well. 
Do  you  think  you  could  do  any  better?" 

''  I  don't  know ;  but  there  are  certainly  some  who  can 
play  better  than  that  fellow  and  better  than  Carnat,  his 
master.  There  are  some  who  have  got  at  the  truth  of  the 
thing." 

"  Do  3'ou  know  them?  Where  are  the  people  that  3'ou 
are  talking  about?" 

"  I  don't  know.  But  somewhere  truth  must  be,  and 
when  one  has  neither  time  nor  means  to  search  for  it, 
one's  only  chance  is  to  meet  it." 

"So  3'our  head  is  running  on  music,  is  it,  Jose?  I 
never  should  have  thought  it.  I  have  always  known  you 
as  mute  as  a  fish,  never  catching  nor  humming  a  tune. 
"When  you  used  to  practise  on  the  cornstalks  like  the  herd- 
boys,  you  made  such  a  jumble  of  the  tunes  that  nobody 
recognized  them.  In  the  matter  of  music  we  all  thought 
3'Ou  more  simple  than  children,  who  fanc}'  the}"  can  pLay 
the  bagpipes  with  reeds ;  if  you  are  not  satisfied  with 
Carnat,  who  keeps  such  good  time  for  dancing,  and  man- 
ages his  fingers  so  skilfull}',  I  am  more  than  ever  sure  your 
ear  can't  be  good." 


44  The  Bagpipers, 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Joseph,  "  3^011  are  right  to  reprove  me, 
for  I  say  fooUsh  things  and  talk  of  what  I  know  nothing 
about.  Well,  good-night,  Tiennet ;  forget  what  I  said,  for 
it  is  not  what  I  wanted  to  say ;  but  I  will  think  it  over 
and  try  to  tell  3'ou  better  another  time." 

And  off  he  went,  quicklj-,  as  if  sorr}-  for  having  spoken  ; 
but  Brulette,  who  came  out  of  our  house  just  then  with 
my  sister,  called  to  him  and  brought  him  back  to  me, 
saying,  — 

"It  is  time  to  put  an  end  to  these  tales.  Here  is  my 
cousin,  who  has  heard  so  much  gossip  about  Joseph  that 
she  begins  to  think  he  is  a  werewolf;  the  thing  must  be 
cleared  up,  once  for  all." 

"  Let  it  be  as  you  sa}^,"  said  Joseph,  "  for  I  am  tired 
of  being  taken  for  a  sorcerer ;  I  would  rather  be  thought 
an  idiot." 

"You  are  neither  an  idiot  nor  crazy,"  returned  Brulette  ; 
"  but  3'ou  are  ver}'^  obstinate,  my  poor  Jose.  You  must 
know,  Tiennet,  that  the  lad  has  nothing  wrong  in  his 
head.  3xcept  a  fanc}'^  for  music,  which  is  not  so  unreason- 
able :v3  it  is  dangerous." 

"  Then,"  answered  I,  "I  understand  what  he  was  say- 
ing to  me  just  now.  But  where  the  devil  did  he  pick  up 
these  ideas  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  minute  !  "  said  Brulette  ;  "  we  must  not  irritate 
him  unjustl}^  Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  sa^'  he  can't  make 
music ;  though  perhaps  3^ou  think,  like  his  mother  and  m3' 
grandfather,  that  his  mind  is  as  dense  to  that  as  it  used 
to  be  to  the  catechism.  But  I  can  tell  3'OU  that  Mariton,  and 
grandfather,  and  3ou  are  the  ones  who  know  nothing  about 
it.  Joseph  can't  sing,  —  not  tliat  he  is  short  of  breath, 
but  because  he  can't  make  his  throat  do  as  he  wants  it; 
and  as  he  is  n't  able  to  satisf3'  himself  he  prefers  not  to 


Tlie  Baginpers.  45 

use  a  voice  be  does  n't  know  how  to  manage.  Therefore, 
naturally  enough,  he  wants  to  play  upon  some  instrument 
which  has  a  voice  in  place  of  his  own,  and  which  can  sing 
for  him  whatever  comes  in  his  head.  It  is  because  he  has 
failed  to  get  this  borrowed  voice  that  our  poor  lad  is  so 
sad  and  dreamy  and  wrapped  up  in  himself." 

"  It  is  exactl}^  as  she  tells  you,"  remarked  Joseph,  who 
seemed  comforted  to  hear  the  young  girl  lift  his  thoughts 
out  of  his  heart  and  make  me  comprehend  them.  "  But 
she  does  not  tell  you  that  she  has  a  voice  for  me,  so  sweet, 
so  clear,  which  repeats  so  correctly  the  music  she  hears 
that  ever  since  I  was  a  child  my  greatest  pleasure  is  to 
listen  to  her." 

••'  Yes,"  said  Brulette,  "  but  we  always  had  a  crow  to  pick 
with  each  other.  I  liked  to  do  as  all  the  other  little  girls 
who  kept  their  flocks  did ;  that  is,  sing  at  the  top  of  my 
voice  so  that  I  could  be  heard  a  long  distance.  Scream- 
ing like  that,  I  outdid  my  strength  and  spoilt  all,  and  hurt 
Jose's  ears.  Then,  after  I  settled  down  to  singing  reason- 
ably, he  thought  I  had  a  good  memory  for  all  the  tunes 
that  were  singable,  those  which  pleased  the  lad  and  those 
that  put  him  in  a  rage ;  and  more  than  once  I  've  known 
him  turn  his  back  on  me  suddenly  and  rush  off  without  a 
word,  though  he  had  asked  me  to  sing.  For  that  matter, 
he  is  not  always  civil  or  kind ;  but  as  it  is  he,  I  laugh  in- 
stead of  getting  angry.  I  know  very  well  he  '11  come  back, 
for  his  memory  is  not  sure,  and  w^hen  he  has  heard  an  air 
that  pleases  him  he  comes  to  me  for  it,  and  he  is  pretty 
sure  to  find  it  in  my  head." 

I  remarked  to  Brulette  that  as  Joseph  had  such  a 
poor  memory  he  did  n't  seem  to  me  born  to  play  the 
bagpipes. 

*'0h  nonsense!"  she  said,  "it  is  just  there  that  you 


46  The  Bagpipers. 

have  got  to  turn  your  opinion  wrong  side  out.  You  see, 
my  poor  Tienuet,  that  neither  3'ou  nor  I  know  the  truth  of 
the  thing.,  as  Jose  sa3's.  But  by  dint  of  living  with  liira 
and  his  visions  I  have  come  to  understand  what  he  either 
does  not  know  or  dares  not  say.  The  *  truth  of  tlie 
thing '  is  that  Jose  thinks  he  can  invent  his  own  music ; 
and  he  does  invent  it,  for  sure.  He  has  succeeded  in 
making  a  flute  out  of  a  reed,  and  he  plays  upon  it ;  I  don 't 
know  how,  for  he  won't  let  me,  nor  any  one  else,  hear 
him.  When  he  wants  to  play  he  goes  ofl",  on  Sundays  and 
sometimes  at  night,  into  lonely  places  where  he  can  flute  as 
he  likes  ;  but  when  I  ask  him  to  play  for  me  he  answers 
that  he  does  not  yet  know  what  he  wants  to  know,  and 
that  he  can't  do  as  I  ask  until  it  is  worth  while.  That's 
why,  ever  since  he  invented  his  instrument,  he  goes  off 
on  Sunday's  and  sometimes,  during  the  week,  at  night, 
when  his  music  grips  him  hard.  So  you  see,  Tiennet,  that 
it  is  all  ver^^  harmless.  But  it  is  time  we  should  have  an 
explanation  between  us  three ;  for  Jose  has  now  set  his 
mind  on  spending  his  next  wages  —  up  to  this  time  he 
has  always  given  them  to  his  mother  —  in  buying  a  bag- 
pipe ;  and,  as  he  knows  he  is  a  poor  hand  at  farm-labor 
and  yet  his  heart  is  set  on  relieving  his  mother  of  hard 
work,  he  wants  to  take  up  the  business  of  placing  the  bag- 
pipe because,  true  enough,  it  pays  well." 

"It  would  be  a  good  idea,"  said  my  sister,  who  was 
listening  to  us,  "  if  Joseph  really  has  a  talent  for  it.  But, 
before  buying  the  bagpipe,  it  is  my  opinion  he  ought  to 
know  something  about  using  it." 

"That's  a  matter  of  time  and  patience,"  said  Brulette, 
"  and  there 's  no  hindrance  there.  Don 't  3'ou  know  that  for 
some  time  past  Carnat's  son  has  been  learning  to  play,  so 
as  to  take  his  father's  place." 


The  Bagpipers,  47 

'*  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  and  I  see  what  will  come  of  it. 
Carnat  is  old  and  some  one  might  have  a  chance  for  his 
custom  ;  but  his  son  wants  it,  and  will  get  it  because  he  is 
rich  and  has  influence  in  the  neighborhood ;  while  you, 
Jose,  have  neither  money  to  buy  3'our  bagpipe  nor  a 
master  to  teach  you,  nor  friends  who  like  your  music  to 
push  you  en." 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Joseph,  sadly ;  "  I  have  nothing 
but  my  idea,  my  reed,  and  —  Aer." 

So  saying  he  motioned  towards  Brulette,  who  took  his 
hand  affectionately  as  she  answered :  — 

*'  Jose,  I  believe  in  what  3'ou  have  in  3'our  head,  but  I 
can't  feel  certain  that  you  will  ever  get  it  out.  To  will 
and  to  do  are  not  the  same  thing ;  to  dream  music  and 
play  the  flute  difler  widel}-.  I  know  what  }'0u  have  in 
your  ears,  in  your  brain,  in  3'Our  heart,  —  the  music  of 
the  good  God  ;  for  I  saw  it  in  3'our  eyes  when  I  was  a 
little  thing  and  3'ou  took  me  on  your  knee  and  said,  in  a 
weird  kind  of  wa3%  '  Listen,  and  don't  make  a  noise,  and 
tr3^  to  remember  what  you  hear/  Then  I  did  listen  faith- 
fully, and  all  I  heard  was  the  wind  talking  in  the  trees,  or 
the  brook  murmuring  along  the  pebbles  ;  but  you,  you 
heard  something  else,  and  3'ou  were  so  certain  of  it  that  I 
was,  too,  for  sympathy.  Well,  m3'  lad,  keep  the  music 
that  is  so  sweet  and  dear  in  3'our  secret  heart,  but  don't 
try  to  make  3'ourself  a  piper  b3'  profession  ;  for  if  you  do, 
one  of  two  things  will  happen.  Either  3'ou  will  never 
make  3'Our  bagpipes  sa3"  what  the  wind  and  the  brook 
whisper  in  3'our  ear,  or  3'ou  will  become  such  a  fine  and 
delicate  musician  that  all  the  petty  pipers  in  the  countr3^- 
side  will  pick  a  quarrel  with  3'ou  and  prevent  3'ou  from 
getting  custom.  The3^  will  wish  3'ou  ill  and  do  3"ou  harm, 
for  that 's  their  wa3'  to  prevent  others  from  sharing  their 


48  The  Bagpipers. 

profits  and  their  fame.  There  are  a  dozen  here  and  in  the 
neighborhood  who  can't  agree  together,  but  who  will  join 
and  support  each  other  in  keeping  out  a  new  hand.  Your 
mother,  who  hears  them  talk  on  Sundaj's,  —  for  they  are 
thirsty  folk  and  accustomed  to  drink  late  at  night  after  the 
dances,  —  is  very  unhappy  to  think  you  want  to  join  such  a 
set  of  people.  They  are  rough  and  ill-behaved,  and 
always  foremost  in  quarrels  and  fights.  The  habit  of  be- 
ing at  all  festivals  and  idle  resorts  makes  them  drunkards 
and  spendthrifts.  In  short,  they  are  a  tribe  unlike  any  of 
the  people  belonging  to  3'ou,  among  whom,  she  thinks, 
you  will  go  to  the  bad.  As  for  me,  I  think  the}'  are  jealous 
and  revengeful,  and  would  try  to  crush  your  spirit,  and 
perhaps  your  bod^^,  too.  And  so,  Jose,  I  do  ask  3'ou  to  at 
least  put  off  3'our  plan  and  lay  aside  3'our  wishes,  and  even 
to  give  them  up  altogether,  if  it  is  not  asking  too  much  of 
your  friendship  for  me,  and  for  your  mother  and  Tiennet." 

As  I  supported  Brulette  's  arguments,  which  seemed  to 
me  sound,  Joseph  was  in  despair ;  but  presently'  he  took 
courage  and  said  :  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  advice,  my  friends,  which  I  know 
is  given  for  my  good  ;  but  I  beg  you  to  leave  me  my  freedom 
of  mind  for  a  short  time  longer.  When  I  have  reached  a 
point  I  think  I  shall  reach,  I  will  ask  you  to  hear  me  play 
the  flute,  or  the  bagpipe  if  it  please  God  to  enable  me  to 
buy  one.  Then,  if  3'ou  decide  that  my  music  is  good  for 
anything  it  will  be  worth  while  for  me  to  make  use  of  my 
talent  and  I  will  face  the  struggle  for  love  of  it.  If  not,  I 
will  go  on  digging  the  earth  and  amusing  myself  with  my 
reed-pipe  on  Sundays,  without  making  a  living  and  so 
offending  anybody.  Promise  me  this,  and  I  will  have 
patience.'* 

We  made  the  promise,  to  quiet  him,  for  he  seemed  more 


The  Bagpipers.  49 

annoyed  by  our  fears  than  touched  by  our  sympathy.  I 
looked  in  his  face  b}'  the  hght  of  the  stars,  and  saw  it  eveiL 
more  distinctly'  because  the  bright  water  of  the  fountain 
was  before  us  like  a  mirror,  which  reflected  on  our  faces  the 
whiteness  of  the  sky.  I  noticed  that  his  eyes  had  the 
very  color  of  the  water  and  seemed  as  usual  to  be  looking 
at  things  which  the  rest  of  us  did  not  see. 

A  month  later  Joseph  came  to  see  me  at  my  own  house. 

''  The  time  has  come,"  he  said,  with  a  clear  look  and  a 
confident  voice,  "  for  the  two  persons  whose  judgment  I 
trust  to  hear  me  play.  I  want  Brulette  to  come  here  to- 
morrow night,  because  here  we  can  be  (juiet  by  ourselves. 
I  know  your  relations  start  on  a  pilgrimage  to-morrow 
on  account  of  that  fever  your  brother  had ;  so  that  you 
will  be  alone  in  the  house,  which  is  far  enough  in  the 
country  for  no  one  to  overhear  us.  I  have  spoken  to 
Brulette,  and  she  is  willing  to  leave  the  village  after  night- 
fall ;  I  shall  wait  for  her  on  the  lower  road,  and  we  can 
get  here  without  any  one  seeing  us.  Brulette  relies  on 
you  not  to  tell  of  it ;  and  her  grandfather,  who  approves  of 
whatever  she  wishes,  consents  too,  if  you  will  make  that 
promise,  which  I  have  given  for  3^ou." 

At  the  appointed  hour  I  waited  in  front  of  m}'  house, 
having  closed  all  the  doors  and  windows,  so  that  the 
passers-b}^  (if  an}^  there  were)  should  think  me  in  bed  or 
absent.  It  was  now  spring ;  and  as  it  had  thundered 
during  the  da}',  the  sky  was  still  thick  with  clouds.  Gusts 
of  warm  wind  brought  all  the  sweet  smells  of  the  month 
of  Ma}'.  I  listened  to  the  nightingales  answering  each 
other  from  distance  to  distance  as  far  as  I  could  hear, 
and  I  thought  to  m3'self  that  Joseph  would  be  hard  put  to 
it  to  flute  like  tliem.  I  saw  the  lights  of  the  houses  in 
the  village  going  out  one  b}'  one  ;  and  about  ten  minutes 

4 


50  The  Bagpipers. 

after  the  last  disappeared  I  found  the  couple  I  was  waiting 
for  close  beside  me.  They  had  stepped  so  softly  on  the 
young  grass  and  so  close  to  the  big  bushes  at  the  side 
of  the  road  that  I  had  neither  seen  nor  heard  them.  I 
took  them  into  the  house,  where  the  lamp  was  lit ;  and 
when  I  looked  at  them  —  she  with  her  hair  so  coquettishl}* 
dressed,  and  he,  as  usual,  cold  and  thoughtful  —  I  could 
scarcely  suppose  them  to  be  ardently  tender  lovers. 

While  I  talked  a  little  with  Brulette,  to  do  the  honors  of 
the  house  (which  was  quite  a  nice  one,  and  I  wanted  her  to 
take  a  fancy  to  it),  Joseph,  without  a  word  to  me,  had  set 
about  tuning  his  flute.  He  found  the  damp  weather  had 
affected  it,  and  he  threw  a  handful  of  flax  chips  on  the 
hearth  to  warm  it.  AYhen  the  chips  blazed  up  they  cast  a 
strong  light  upon  his  face,  which  was  bent  towards  the 
fireplace  ;  and  I  thought  his  look  so  strange  that  I  called 
Brulette's  attention  to  it  in  a  low  voice. 

''  You  may  think,"  I  said  to  her,  "  that  he  hides  by  day 
and  wanders  off  at  night  solel}^  to  surfeit  himself  with  that 
flute ;  but  I  know  that  he  has  in  him  or  about  him  some 
secret  that  he  does  not  tell  us." 

"Bah!"  she  exclaimed,  laughing;  "just  because 
Veret,  the  sabot-maker,  fancies  he  saw  him  with  a  tall, 
dark  man  near  the  Rateau  elm  ! " 

"  Perhaps  Veret  dreamed  that,"  I  answered ;  "  but 
as  for  me,  I  know  what  I  saw  and  heard  in  the 
forest." 

"What  did  5'ou  see?"  said  Jose,  suddenly,  who  had 
heard  every  word,  though  we  spoke  quite  low.  "  What 
did  3'ou  hear?  You  saw  him  who  is  my  friend,  but  whom 
I  cannot  make  known  to  3'ou  ;  and  as  for  what  3'Ou  heard, 
3'ou  are  going  now  to  hear  it  again  if  it  pleases  3'ou  to 
do  so." 


The  Bagpipers,  51 

Thereupon  he  blew  into  his  flute,  his  eye  on  fire  and  his 
face  blazing  as  if  with  fever. 

Don't  ask  me  what  he  pla3'ed.  I  don't  know  if  the 
devil  would  have  understood  it ;  as  for  me,  I  did  n't, 
except  that  it  seemed  the  same  air  I  had  heard  among  the 
brake,  on  the  bagpipes.  At  that  time  I  was  so  fright- 
ened that  I  did  n't  listen  to  it  all ;  but  now,  whether  it 
was  that  the  music  was  longer,  or  that  Joseph  put  some  of 
his  own  into  it,  he  never  stopped  fluting  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  setting  his  fingers  very  delicately',  never  losing 
his  breath,  and  getting  such  sounds  out  of  his  miserable 
reed  that  3'ou  would  have  thought,  at  times,  there  were 
three  bagpipes  going  at  once.  At  other  times  he  played 
so  softly  that  you  could  hear  the  cricket  indoors  and  the 
nightingales  without ;  and  when  Jose  played  low  I  con- 
fess I  liked  it, —  though  the  whole  together  was  so  little 
like  what  we  were  accustomed  to  that  it  seemed  to  me 
a  crazy  racket. 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  I  exclaimed,  when  he  had  finished  ;  "  that's 
a  mad  sort  of  music  !  Where  the  devil  did  you  learn  that  ? 
"What  is  the  use  of  it  ?     Is  there  an}"  meaning  in  it  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  and  seemed  as  if  he  had  not  heard 
me.  He  was  looking  at  Bralette,  who  was  leaning  against 
a  chair  with  her  face  turned  to  the  wall. 

As  she  did  not  say  a  word,  Jose  was  seized  with  a  rush 
of  anger  either  against  her  or  against  himself,  and  I  saw 
him  make  a  motion  as  if  to  break  his  flute ;  but  just  at 
that  moment  the  girl  looked  round,  and  I  was  much  sur- 
prised to  see  great  tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 

Joseph  ran  to  her  and  caught  her  hands. 

"  Tell  me  what  3'ou  feel,  m}"  darling !  "  he  cried  ;  "let 
me  know  if  it  is  pit}'  for  me  that  makes  you  cry,  or 
whether  it  is  pleasure." 


52  The  Bagpipers. 

* '  I  don't  know  how  pleasure  in  a  thing  like  that  could 
make  me  cry,"  she  said.  "  Don't  ask  me  if  I  feel  pain  or 
pleasure ;  all  that  I  know  is  that  I  can't  help  crying." 

"  But  what  were  j^ou  thinking  of  while  I  played?"  said 
Joseph,  looking  fixedly  at  her. 

"  So  many  things  that  I  can't  give  account  of  them," 
rephed  Brulette. 

"  Well,  tell  me  one,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  was  im- 
patient and  dictatorial. 

"I  did  not  think  of  anything,"  said  Brulette,  "but  a 
thousand  recollections  of  old  times  came  into  my  mind. 
I  seemed  not  to  see  3'ou  pla3'ing,  though  I  heard  3'ou 
clearly  enough ;  \-ou  appeared  to  be  no  older  than  when 
we  lived  together,  and  I  felt  as  if  3'ou  and  I  were  driven 
by  a  strong  wind,  sometimes  through  the  ripe  wheat, 
sometimes  into  the  long  grass,  at  other  times  upon  the 
running  streams  ;  and  I  saw  the  fields,  the  woods,  the 
springs,  the  flower3^  meadows,  and  the  birds  in  the  sky 
among  tlie  clouds.  I  saw,  too,  in  m3'  dream,  your  mother 
and  m3'  grandfather  sitting  before  the  fire,  and  talking  of 
things  I  could  not  understand  ;  and  all  the  while  you  were 
in  the  corner  on  3'our  knees  sa3'ing  3'our  pra3ers,  and  I 
thought  I  was  asleep  in  m3'  little  bed.  Then  again  I  saw 
the  ground  covered  with  snow,  and  the  willows  full  of 
larlcs,  and  the  nights  full  of  falling  stars ;  and  we  looked 
at  each  other,  sitting  on  a  hillock,  while  the  sheep  made 
their  little  noise  of  nibbling  the  grass.  In  short,  I 
dreamed  so  man3^  things  that  the3^  are  all  jumbled  up  in 
mv  head ;  and  if  the3'  made  me  cr3',  it  was  not  for  grief, 
but  because  m3'  mind  was  shaken  in  a  wa}'  I  can't  at  all 
explain  to  3'ou." 

*'  It  is  all  right,"  said  Jos^.  "  What  I  saw  and  what  I 
dreamed  as  I  played  30U  saw  too !     Thank  3'on,  Brulette* 


The  Bagpipers.  63 

Through  yon  I  know  now  that  I  am  not  craz}',  and  that 
there  is  a  truth  in  what  we  hear  within  us,  as  there  is  in 
what  we  see.  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  taking  long  strides  up 
and  down  the  room  and  holding  his  flute  above  his  head, 
"  it  speaks  !  —  that  miserable  bit  of  reed  !  it  says  what  we 
think ;  it  shows  what  we  see ;  it  tells  a  tale  as  if  with 
words  ;  it  loves  like  the  heart,  it  lives,  it  has  a  being ! 
And  now,  Jose  the  madman,  Jose  the  idiot,  Jose  the 
starer,  go  back  to  3'our  imbecility ;  you  can  afford  to  do 
so,  for  you  are  as  powerful,  and  as  wise,  and  as  happy  as 
others ! " 

So  saying,  he  sat  down  and  paid  no  further  attention  to 
anything  about  him. 


54  The  Bagpipers, 


FIFTH   EVENING. 

We  stared  at  him,  Brulette  and  I,  for  he  was  no  longer 
the  Jose  we  knew.  As  for  me,  there  was  something  in 
all  this  whicli  reminded  me  of  the  tales  they  tell  among  us 
of  the  wandering  bagpipers,  who  are  supposed  to  tame 
wild  animals  and  to  lead  packs  of  wolves  by  night  along 
the  roads,  just  as  other  people  lead  their  flocks  in  the 
meadows.  Jose  did  not  haA^e  a  natural  look  as  he  sat 
there  before  me.  Instead  of  being  pale  and  puny,  he 
seemed  taller  and  better  in  health,  as  I  had  seen  him  in 
the  forest.  In  short,  he  looked  like  a  person.  His  ej'es 
beamed  in  his  head  with  the  glitter  of  two  stars,  and  anj^ 
one  who  had  called  him  the  handsomest  fellow  in  the 
world  would  n't  have  been  mistaken  at  that  particular 
moment. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Brulette  also  was  under  some  spell 
or  witchery,  because  she  had  seen  so  man}'  things  in  that 
fluting  when  I  could  only  see  the  excitement  of  it.  I 
sorely  wanted  to  make  her  admit  that  Jose  would  never 
get  any  one  but  the  devil  to  dance  to  such  music ;  but  she 
would  n't  listen  to  me,  and  asked  him  to  begin  again. 

He  was  read}''  enough  to  do  that,  and  began  with  a  tune 
which  was  like  the  first,  and  yet  was  not  quite  the  same ; 
but  I  saw  that  his  ideas  had  not  changed,  and  that  he  was 
determined  not  to  give  in  to  our  country  fashions.  See- 
ing that  Brulette  listened  as  if  she  had  a  taste  for  the 
thing,  I  made  an  effort  in  my  mind  to  see  if  I  could  n't 
like  it  too ;  and  I  seemed  to  get  accustomed  to  this  new 


The  Bagpipers,  55 

kind  of  music  so  quickly-  that  something  was  stirred  inside 
of  me.  I  too  had  a  vision  :  I  thousfht  I  saw  Brulette 
dancing  alone  by  the  light  of  the  moon  under  a  hawthorn 
all  in  bloom,  and  shaking  her  pink  apron  as  if  about  to  fly 
away.  But  just  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  sort  of  ringing  of 
bells  was  heard  not  far  off,  like  that  I  had  heard  in  the 
forest,  and  Joseph  stopped  fluting,  cut  short  in  the  very 
middle  of  a  tune. 

I  came  out  of  my  vision,  quite  convinced  that  the  bell 
was  not  a  dream ;  Joseph  himself  was  interrupted,  and 
stood  stock-still,  evidentl}^  vexed  ;  while  Brulette  gazed  at 
him,  not  less  astonished  than  I  was. 

All  my  terrors  came  back  to  me. 

"Jose,"  I  said,  reproachfull}',  "there  is  more  in  this 
than  3'ou  choose  to  confess.  You  did  not  learn  what  3'ou 
know  all  by  yourself ;  there 's  a  companion  outside  who  is 
answering  j^ou,  whether  30U  will  or  no.  Come,  tell  him  to 
go  awa}' ;  for  I  don't  want  to  have  him  in  my  house.  I 
invited  you,  and  not  him,  nor  any  of  his  tribe.  If  he 
doesn't  go,  I'll  sing  him  an  anthem  he  won't  like." 

So  saying,  I  took  my  father's  old  gun  from  over  the 
chimney-piece,  knowing  it  was  loaded  with  three  conse- 
crated balls  ;  for  the  Evil  Beast  was  in  the  habit  of  roam- 
ing about  the  Font  de  Fond,  and  though  I  had  never  seen 
him,  I  was  alwa3's  prepared  to  do  so,  knowing  that  m3' 
parents  feared  him  ver3'  much  and  that  he  had  frequentl3' 
molested  them. 

Joseph  began  to  laugh  instead  of  answering  me ;  then, 
calling  to  his  dog,  he  went  to  open  the  door.  My  own 
dog  had  followed  m3'  famil3'  on  their  pilgrimage,  so  that  I 
had  no  way  of  ascertaining  whether  the3"  were  real  people 
or  evil  ones  who  were  ringing  the  bells ;  for  3'ou  must 
know  that  animals,   particular I3'  dogs,  are  ver3^  wise  in 


5Q  The  Bagpipers. 

such  matters,  and  bark  in  a  way  that  lets  human  beings 
know  the  truth. 

It  is  a  fact  that  Parpluche,  Joseph's  dog,  instead  of 
getting  angry,  ran  at  once  to  the  door  and  sprang  out 
gayly  enough ;  as  soon  as  it  was  opened  but  the  creature 
might  have  been  bewitched,  and  so  far  as  I  could  see, 
there  was  nothing  good  in  the  matter. 

Joseph  went  out ;  the  wind,  which  had  grown  very  high, 
slammed  the  door  after  him.  Brulette,  who  had  risen, 
made  as  if  she  would  open  it  to  see  what  was  going  on ; 
but  I  stopped  her  quickly,  sajdng  there  was  certainly 
some  wicked  secret  under  it  all,  so  that  she,  too,  began  to 
be  afraid  and  wished  she  had  never  come. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Brulette,"  said  I ;  "I  believe  in 
evil  spirits,  but  I  am  not  afraid  of  them.  They  do  no 
harm  except  to  those  who  seek  them,  and  all  they  can 
ever  do  to  real  Christians  is  to  frighten  them.  But  that's 
a  fear  we  can  and  ought  to  conquer.  Come,  say  a  prayer, 
and  I ']!  hold  the  door,  and  you  may  be  sure  no  harmful 
thing  can  get  in." 

"  But  that  poor  lad,"  said  Brulette  ;  "  if  he  is  in  dan- 
ger, ought  we  not  to  get  him  back  ?  " 

I  made  her  a  sign  to  be  silent,  and  putting  mj'self  close 
to  the  door  with  m}^  loaded  gun  I  listened  with  all  my 
ears.  The  wind  blew  high  and  the  bell  could  only  be 
heard  now  and  then  and  seemed  to  be  moving  farther  off. 
Brulette  was  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  half-laughing, 
half-trembling,  for  she  was  a  brave,  intrepid  sort  of  girl, 
who  joked  about  the  devil,  though  she  would  not  have 
liked  to  make  acquaintance  with  him. 

Present^  I  heard  Jose  coming  back  and  saying,  not  far 
from  the  door,  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  directl}"  after  midsummer.     Thank  you  and 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  57 

the  good  God  !  I  -will  do  just  as  you  say ;  you  have  my 
word  for  that." 

As  he  mentioned  the  good  God  I  felt  more  confidence, 
so  opening  the  door  a  trifle  I  looked  out,  and  there  I 
saw,  by  the  light  that  streamed  from  the  house,  Jose, 
walking  beside  a  villanous-looking  man,  all  black  from 
head  to  foot,  even  his  face  and  hands,  and  behind  him 
two  big  black  dogs  who  were  romping  with  Joseph's  dog. 
The  man  answered,  with  such  a  loud  voice  that  Brulette 
heard  him  and  trembled:  "  Good-b^'e,  little  man;  we 
shall  meet  again.     Here,  Clairin  !  " 

He  had  no  sooner  said  that  than  the  bells  began  to 
jingle,  and  I  saw  a  lean  little  horse  come  up  to  him,  half- 
crouching,  with  eyes  like  live  coals,  and  a  bell  which 
shone  bright  as  gold  upon  his  neck.  "  Call  up  your  com- 
rades !  "  said  the  tall  dark  man.  The  little  horse  galloped 
away'  followed  by  the  two  dogs,  and  his  master  after  shak- 
ing hands  with  Jose  went  awa}-  too.  Joseph  came  in 
and  shut  the  door,  saying  with  a  scornful  air,  — 

"What  were  3'ou  doing  here,  Tiennet?" 

"  And  you,  Jose,  what  have  you  got  there?"  I  retorted, 
seeing  that  he  had  a  parcel  wrapped  in  black  oil-cloth 
under  his  arm. 

"That?"  he  said,  "that  is  something  the  good  God 
has  sent  me  at  the  very  hour  it  was  promised.  Come, 
Tiennet ;  come,  Brulette  ;  see  the  fine  present  God  has 
made  me ! " 

"The  good  God  doesn't  send  black  angels  or  make 
presents  to  wrong-doers." 

"  Hush,"  said  Brulette,  "let  Jose  explain  himself." 

But  she  had  hardly  said  the  words  when  a  loud  commo- 
tion, like  the  galloping  of  two  hundred  animals,  was 
heard  from  the  broad  grass-ground  around  the  fountain, 


58  The  Bagpipers. 

some  sixty  feet  from  the  house,  from  which  it  was  sep- 
arated by  the  garden  and  hemp-field.  The  bell  tinkled, 
the  dogs  barked,  and  the  man's  rough  voice  was  heard 
shouting,  "  Quick,  quick !  here,  here !  to  me,  Clairin ! 
come,  come  !  I  miss  three  !  You,  Louveteau,  you,  Satan  ! 
off  with  30U,  quick  !  " 

For  a  moment  Brulette  was  so  frightened  that  she  ran 
from  Joseph  to  me,  which  gave  me  fine  courage,  and 
seizing  my  gun  again  I  said  to  Joseph  :  — 

''  I  don't  choose  that  your  people  should  come  racketing 
round  here  at  night.  Brulette  has  had  enough  of  it  and 
she  wants  to  be  taken  home.  Come  now,  stop  this  sorcery 
or  I  '11  chase  3'our  witches." 

Joseph  stopped  me  as  I  was  going  out. 

*'  Stay  here,"  he  said,  "  and  don't  meddle  with  what  does 
not  concern  you  ;  or  maybe  you  '11  regret  it  later.  Keep 
still,  and  see  what  I  brought  in  ;  jo\x  shall  know  all  about 
it  presently." 

As  the  uproar  was  now  d3ing  away  in  the  distance,  I 
did  look,  all  the  more  because  Brulette  was  crazy  to  know 
what  was  in  the  parcel ;  and  Joseph,  undoing  it,  showed 
us  a  bagpipe,  so  large,  and  full,  and  handsome  that  it  was 
really  a  splendid  thing,  and  such  as  I  had  never  seen 
before. 

It  had  double  bellows,  one  of  which  measured  five  feet 
from  end  to  end  ;  and  the  wood  of  the  instrument,  which 
was  black  cherrv,  dazzled  the  eyes  with  the  pewter  orna- 
ments, made  to  shine  like  silver,  which  were  inlaid  at 
all  the  joints.  The  wind-bag  was  of  handsome  leather 
tied  with  a  knot  of  calico,  striped  blue  and  white  ;  indeed, 
the  whole  workmanship  was  done  in  so  clever  a  wa}''  that 
it  only  took  a  very  little  breath  to  fill  the  bag  and  send 
out  a  sound  like  thunder. 


The  Bagpipers.  59 

''  The  die  is  cast !  "  said  Brulette,  to  whom  Joseph 
was  not  listening,  so  intent  was  he  in  taking  apart  and 
replacing  the  various  parts  of  his  bag[)ipe.  "  You  will  be 
a  piper,  Jose,  in  spite  of  the  hindrances  you  will  meet 
with,  and  the  trouble  it  will  be  to  3'our  mother." 

"  I  shall  be  a  piper,"  he  said,  "  when  I  know  how  to 
[)la3'  the  bagpipe.  Before  then  the  wheat  will  ripen  and 
ihe  leaves  will  fall.  Don't  let  us  trouble  ourselves 
about  what  will  happen,  children  ;  but  see  things  as  they 
are,  and  don't  accuse  me  of  dealings  with  the  devil.  He 
V.  ho  brought  me  that  bagpipe  is  neither  a  sorcerer  nor 
a  demon.  He  is  a  man  rather  rough  at  times,  for  his 
business  requires  it,  and  as  he  is  going  to  spend  the 
night  not  far  from  here  I  advise  3'ou  and  I  beg  3'ou,  friend 
Tiennet,  not  to  go  where  he  is.  Excuse  me  for  not  telling 
3'Ou  his  name  or  his  business  ;  and  also  promise  me  not  to 
say  that  3'ou  have  seen  him  or  that  he  came  round  this 
wa3'.  It  might  cause  him  anno3'ance  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
us.  Be  content  to  know  that  he  is  a  man  of  good  sense 
and  good  judgment.  It  is  he  whom  3'ou  saw  in  the  under- 
brush of  the  forest  of  Saint-Chartier,  pla3'ing  a  bagpipe 
like  this  one  ;  for  though  he  is  not  a  piper  b3^  trade,  he 
understands  it  thoroughl3',  and  has  pla3'ed  me  airs  that 
are  much  more  beautiful  tlian  ours.  He  saw  that  not 
having  enough  mone3'  I  could  not  bu3'  such  an  instrument, 
and  so  he  was  satisfied  with  a  small  amount  and  lent  me 
the  rest,  promising  to  bu3'  the  instrument  and  bring  it  me 
just  about  this  time,  letting  me  pa3'  for  it  as  I  am  able. 
For  this  thing,  3'ou  see,  costs  eight  pistoles,  nearl3-  one 
3'ear's  wages !  Now,  as  I  had  n't  a  third  of  it,  he  said, 
'  Trust  me,  give  me  what  you  have,  and  I  will  trust  you 
in  the  same  wa3'.'  That 's  how  tlie  thing  happened.  I 
did  n't  know  him  a   mite  and  we  had  no   witnesses  :  he 


60  The  Bagpi2:)ers. 

could  have  cheated  me  if  he  wished,  and  if  I  had  asked 
your  advice  3'ou  would  have  dissuaded  me  from  trust- 
ing him.  But  3^ou  see  now  that  he  is  a  faithful  man,  for 
he  said,  '  I  will  come  round  youv  way  at  Christmas  and 
give  you  an  answer.'  At  Christmas  I  met  him  under  the 
Rateau  elm,  and  sure  enough  he  came,  and  said :  '  The 
thing  is  not  3'et  finished ;  but  it  is  being  made  ;  between 
the  first  and  tenth  of  Maj'  I  will  be  here  again,  and  bring 
it.'  This  is  the  eighth.  He  has  come,  and  just  as  he 
turned  a  little  out  of  his  way  to  look  for  me  in  the  village 
he  heard  the  air  I  was  plajing,  which  he  was  certain  no 
one  in  these  parts  knew  but  me ;  and  as  for  me,  I  heard 
and  recognized  his  belh  That 's  how  it  happened,  and 
the  devil  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  We  said  good-evening 
to  each  other  and  promised  to  meet  at  midsummer." 

"  If  that  is  so,"  I  remarked,  "  wh}'  did  n't  you  bring  him 
in  here,  where  he  could  have  rested  and  been  refreshed 
with  a  glass  of  good  wine?  I  would  have  given  him  a 
heart}^  welcome  for  keeping  his  word  to  3'OU  faithfull3'." 

"Oh!  as  for  that,"  replied  Joseph,  "he  is  a  man  who 
doesn't  always  behave  like  other  people.  He  has  his 
wa3's,  and  his  own  ideas  and  reasons.  Don't  ask  me  more 
than  I  ought  to  tell  you." 

"  Wh3^  not?  is  it  because  he  is  hiding  from  honest 
people?"  asked  Brulette.  "I  think  that  is  worse  than 
being  a  sorcerer.  He  must  be  some  one  who  has  done 
wrong,  or  he  would  not  be  roaming  round  at  night,  and 
3^ou  wouldn't  be  forbidden  to  speak  of  him." 

"  I  will  tell  3'ou  all  about  it  to-morrow,"  said  Joseph, 
smiling  at  our  fears.  "To-night,  3'Ou  can  think  what 
3'ou  please,  for  I  shall  tell  3'ou  nothing  more.  Come, 
Brulette,  there  's  the  cuckoo  striking  midnight.  I  '11  take 
you  home  and  leave  my  bagpipe  hidden    away  in   your 


The  Bagpipers.  61 

charge.  For  I  certainl}^  shall  not  practise  on  it  in  this 
neighborhood ;  the  time  to  make  myself  known  has  not 
yet  come." 

Brulette  said  good-night  to  me  ver^-  prettil}',  putting  her 
liand  into  mine.  But  when  I  saw  that  she  put  her  arm 
into  Joseph's  to  go  away,  jealousy  galloped  otf  with  me 
again,  and  as  they  went  along  the  high-road  I  cut  across 
the  hemp-field  and  posted  myself  beneath  the  hedge  to  see 
them  pass.  The  weather  had  cleared  a  little,  but  there 
had  been  a  shower,  and  Brulette  let  go  of  Joseph's  arm  to 
pick  up  her  dress,  saying,  "It  is  not  easy  to  walk  two 
together  ;  go  in  front." 

If  I  had  been  in  Jose's  place  I  should  have  offered  to 
carry  her  over  the  muddy  places,  or,  if  I  had  not  dared  to 
take  her  in  my  arms,  I  should  have  lingered  behind  her 
to  look  at  her  pretty  ankles.  But  Jose  did  nothing  of  the 
kind,  he  concerned  himself  about  nothing  but  his  bagpipe  ; 
and  as  I  saw  him  handling  it  with  care  and  looking  lov- 
ingl}'  at  it,  I  said  to  myself  that  he  had  n't  any  other  love 
just  then. 

I  returned  home,  eas}'  in  mind  in  more  wa3's  than  one, 
and  went  to  bed,  somewhat  fatigued  both  in  body  and 
mind. 

But  it  was  not  half  an  hour  before  Monsieur  Parpluche, 
who  had  been  amusing  himself  with  the  stranger's  dogs, 
came  scratching  at  the  door  in  search  of  his  master.  I 
rose  to  let  him  in,  and  just  then  I  fancied  I  heard  a  noise 
in  my  oats,  which  were  coming  up  green  and  thick  at  the 
back  of  the  house.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the}'  were  being 
cropped  and  trampled  b}'  some  four-footed  beast  who  had 
no  business  there. 

I  caught  up  the  first  stick  that  came  to  hand  and  ran 
out,  whistling  to  Parpluche,  who  did   not   obey  me  but 


62  The  Bagpipers, 

made  off,  looking  for  his  master,  after  snuffing  about  the 
house. 

Entering  the  field,  I  saw  something  rolling  on  its  back 
with  its  paws  in  the  air,  crushing  the  oats  right  and  left, 
getting  up,  jumping  about  and  browsing  quite  at  its  ease. 
For  a  moment  I  was  afraid  to  run  after  it,  not  knowing 
w^hat  kind  of  beast  it  was.  I  could  see  nothing  clearly- 
but  its  ears,  which  were  too  long  for  a  horse ;  but  the 
body  was  too  black  and  stout  for  a  donkej'.  I  approached 
it  gentl}' ;  it  seemed  neither  wild  nor  mischievous,  and 
then  I  knew  it  was  a  mule,  though  I  had  seldom  seen  one, 
for  we  don't  raise  them  in  our  part  of  the  countrj',  and 
the  muleteers  never  pass  this  way.  I  was  just  going  to 
catch  him  and  already  had  m}'  hand  on  his  mane  when  he 
threw  up  his  hindquarters  and  lashing  out  a  dozen  kicks 
which  I  had  scarcely  time  to  avoid,  he  leaped  like  a  hare 
over  the  ditch  and  ran  awaj'  so  quickly  that  in  a  moment 
he  was  out  of  sight. 

Not  wishing  to  have  my  oats  ruined  by  the  return  of 
the  beast,  I  put  off  going  to  bed  till  I  could  have  an  easy 
mind.  I  returned  to  the  house  to  get  m^'  shoes  and  waist- 
coat, and  after  fastening  the  doors  I  went  through  the 
fields  in  the  direction  the  mule  had  taken.  I  had  little 
doubt  that  he  belonged  to  the  troop  of  the  dark  man, 
Joseph's  friend.  Joseph  had  certainly  advised  me  to  see 
nothing  of  him,  but  now  that  I  had  touched  a  living  ani- 
mal I  was  afraid  of  nothing.  Nobody  likes  ghosts  ;  but 
when  3'ou  know  you  are  dealing  with  solid  things  it  is 
another  affair ;  and  the  moment  I  realized  that  the  dark 
man  was  a  man,  no  matter  how  strong  lie  was  or  how 
much  he  had  daubed  himself  over,  I  did  n't  care  for  him 
any  more  than  I  did  for  a  weasel. 

You    must   have    heard    say    that   I    was    one    of    the 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  63 

strongest  fellows  of  these  parts  in  m}-  3'onng  days  ;  in 
fact,  such  as  I  am  now,  I  am  not  3'et  afraid  of  any 
man. 

Moreover,  I  was  as  nimble  as  a  roach,  and  I  knew  that 
in  dangers  where  the  strength  of  a  man  was  not  enough 
to  save  him,  it  would  have  needed  the  wings  of  a  bird  to 
overtake  me  in  running.  Accordingl}^  having  provided 
myself  with  a  rope  and  m}'  own  gun  (which  did  n't  have 
consecrated  balls,  but  could  cany  truer  than  my  father's), 
I  set  out  on  a  voyage  of  discovery. 

I  had  scarcely  taken  a  couple  of  hundred  steps  when 
I  saw  three  more  animals  of  the  same  kind  in  m}'  brother- 
in-law's  pasture,  where  they  were  behaving  themselves 
just  as  badly  as  possible.  Like  the  first  brute,  they 
allowed  me  to  approach  them,  and  then  immediately 
galloped  off  to  a  farm  on  the  estate  of  Aulnieres,  where 
they  met  another  troop  of  mules  capering  about  as  lively 
as  mice,  rearing  and  kicking  in  the  rising  moonliglit,  —  a 
regular  donkey-chase^  which  3^ou  know  is  what  the}'  call 
the  dance  of  the  devil's  she-asses,  when  the  fairies  and 
the  will-o-the-wisps  gallop  up  there  among  the  clouds. 

However,  there  was  really  no  magic  here  ;  but  onty  a 
great  robber}'  of  pasture,  and  abominable  mischief  done  to 
the  grain.  The  crop  was  not  mine,  and  I  might  have 
said  that  it  was  none  of  my  business,  but  I  felt  provoked 
to  have  run  after  the  troublesome  animals  for  nothing, 
and  you  can't  see  the  fine  wheat  of  the  good  God  trampled 
and  destroyed  without  anger. 

I  went  on  into  the  big  wheat-field  without  meeting  a 
single  Christian  soul,  though  the  mules  seemed  to  increase 
in  numbers  every  minute.  I  meant  to  catch  at  least  one, 
which  would  serve  as  proof  when  I  complained  to  the 
authorities  of  the  damasie  done  to  the  farm. 


64  The  Bagpipers, 

I  singled  out  one  which  seemed  to  be  more  docile  than 
the  rest,  but  when  I  got  near  him  I  saw  that  he  was  n't 
the  same  game,  but  the  lean  little  horse  with  a  bell  round 
his  neck  ;  which  bell,  as  I  learned  later,  is  called  in  the 
Bourbonnais  districts  a  dairin^  and  the  horse  that  wears 
it  goes  by  the  same  name.  Not  knowing  the  habits  of 
these  animals,  it  was  by  mere  good  luck  that  I  chanced 
upon  the  right  wa}''  to  manage  them,  which  was  to  get 
hold  of  the  bell-horse,  or  clairin^  and  lead  him  awa^', 
being  certain  to  catch  a  mule  or  two  afterwards  if  I 
succeeded. 

The  little  animal,  which  seemed  good-natured  and  well- 
trained,  let  me  pet  him  and  lead  him  awa}^  without  seeming 
to  care  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  began  to  walk,  the  bell  on  his 
neck  began  to  jingle,  and  great  was  m}^  surprise  to  see  the 
crowd  of  mules,  scattered  here  and  there  among  the 
wheat,  come  trooping  upon  us,  and  tearing  after  me  like 
bees  after  their  queen.  I  saw  then  that  the}"  were  trained 
to  follow  the  clairin,  and  that  they  knew  its  ring  just  as 
well  as  good  monks  know  the  bell  for  matins. 


The  Bagpipers.  65 


SIXTH   EVENING. 

I  DID  not  lonsr  debate  what  I  should  do  with  the  mis- 
chievous  horde.  I  went  straight  for  the  manor  of  Aul- 
nieres,  thinking  that  I  could  easil}^  open  the  gates  of  the 
yard  and  drive  the  beasts  in ;  after  which  I  would  wake 
the  farmers  and  the}',  when  informed  of  the  damage  done, 
would  do  as  the}'  saw  fit. 

I  was  just  nearing  the  yard  when,  as  it  happened,  I 
fancied  I  saw  a  man  running  on  the  road  behind  me. 
I  cocked  my  gun,  thinking  that  if  he  was  the  muleteer  I 
shoukl  have  a  bone  to  pick  with  him.  But  it  was  Joseph, 
on  his  way  back  to  Aulnieres  after  escorting  Brulette  to 
the  village. 

'•What  are  you  doing  here,  Tiennet?"he  said  to  me, 
coming  up  as  fast  as  he  could  run.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you 
not  to  leave  home  to-night?  You  are  in  danger  of  death ; 
L't  go  that  hcfi-se  and  don't  meddle  with  those  mules. 
What  can't  be  helped  must  be  endured  for  fear  of  worse 
evils." 

"Thank  you,  comrade,"  I  answered.  "Your  fine  friends 
pasture  their  cavalry  in  my  field  and  you  expect  me  to  say 
nothing  !  Very  good,  very  good  !  go  your  ways  if  you  are 
afraid  yourself,  but  as  for  me,  I  shall  see  the  thing  out, 
and  get  justice  done  by  law  or  might." 

As  I  spoke,  having  stopped  a  moment  to  answer  him, 
we  heard  a  dog  bark  in  the  distance,  and  Jose,  seizing  the 
rope  by  which  I  was  leading  the  horse,  cried  out :  — 

"Quick,  Tiennet!  here  come  the  muleteer's  dogs!     If 

5 


66  The  Bagpipers. 

you  don't  want  to  be  torn  in  pieces,  let  go  the  horse  ;  see, 
he  hears  them  and  you  can't  do  anything  with  him  now." 

Sure  enough,  the  clairin  pricked  his  ears  to  listen  ;  then 
la3'ing  them  back,  which  is  a  great  sign  of  ill-temper,  he 
began  to  neigh  and  rear  and  kick,  which  brought  all  the 
mules  capering  round  us,  so  that  we  had  scarcely'  time  to 
get  out  of  the  way  before  the  whole  of  them  rushed  by  at 
full  speed  in  the  direction  of  the  dogs. 

I  was  not  satisfied  to  yield,  however,  and  as  the  dogs, 
having  called  in  their  wild  troop,  showed  signs  of  making 
straight  for  us,  I  took  aim  with  my  gun  as  if  to  shoot  the 
first  of  the  two  that  came  at  me.  But  Joseph  went  up  to 
the  dog  and  made  him  recognize  him. 

'*  Ah  !  Satan,"  he  said  to  him,  "  the  fault  is  3"ours.  Why 
did  3'ou  chase  the  hares  into  the  wheat  instead  of  watch- 
ing your  beasts  ?  When  your  master  wakes  up  you  will  be 
whipped  if  3'ou  are  not  at  3'our  post  with  Louveteau  and 
the  clairin.'^ 

Satan,  understanding  that  he  was  being  reproved  for 
his  behavior,  obeyed  Joseph,  who  called  him  towards  a 
large  tract  of  waste  land  where  the  mules  could  feed  with- 
out doing  an3^  damage,  and  where  Joseph,  as  he  told  me, 
intended  to  watch  them  until  their  master  returned, 

"  Nevertheless,  Jose,"  I  said  to  him,  •'  matters  won't 
blow  over  as  quietl3'  as  3^ou  think  for ;  and  if  3'ou  will  not 
tell  me  where  the  owner  of  these  mules  hides  himself,  I 
shall  stay  here  and  wait  for  him,  and  sa3^  what  I  think  to 
his  face,  and  demand  reparation  for  the  harm  done." 

"  You  don't  know  muleteers  if  3'ou  think  it  eas3^  to  get 
the  better  of  them,"  replied  Joseph.  "  I  believe  it  is  the 
first  time  any  of  them  have  ever  passed  this  wa3'.  It  is 
not  their  usual  road  ;  the3'  commonl3'  come  down  from  the 
Bourbonnais  forests  through  those  of  Meillant  and  L'Espi- 


The  Bagpipe7'S,  67 

nasse  into  the  Chenrre  woods.  I  happened  accidentally 
to  meet  them  in  the  forest  of  Saint-Chartier,  where  they 
were  halting  on  their  way  to  Saint- Aoiit ;  among  them 
was  tlie  man  who  is  here  now,  whose  name  is  Huriel,  and 
who  is  on  his  way  to  the  iron  works  of  Ardentes  for  coal 
and  ore.  lie  has  been  kind  enough  to  come  two  hours 
out  of  his  way  to  oblige  me.  And  it  may  be  that,  having 
left  his  companions  and  the  heath  country  through  which 
the  roads  frequented  b}^  men  of  his  business  run,  where 
his  mules  can  pasture  without  injuring  any  one,  he  fancied 
he  was  just  as  free  here  in  our  wheat-lands  ;  and  though 
he  is  altogether  wrong,  it  would  be  best  not  to  tell  him 
so." 

"He  will  have  to  know  what  I  think,"  I  answered,  "  for 
I  see  now  how  the  land  laj's.  Ho  !  ho  !  muleteers  !  we  know 
what  they  are.  You  remind  me  of  things  I  have  heard  my 
godfather,  Gervais  the  forester,  tell  of.  Muleteers  are  law- 
less men,  wicked  and  ignorant,  who  would  kill  a  man  with 
as  little  conscience  as  they  would  a  rabbit.  The}'  think 
the}'  have  a  right  to  feed  their  beasts  at  the  expense  of 
the  peasantry,  and  if  any  one  complains  who  is  not  strong 
enough  to  resist  them,  they  will  come  back  later  or  send 
their  comrades  to  kill  the  poor  man's  cattle  or  burn  his 
house,  or  worse ;  they  live  on  plunder,  like  thieves  at 
a  fair." 

"  As  you  have  heard  those  things,"  said  Joseph,  "you 
must  see  that  we  should  be  very  foolish  to  draw  down 
some  great  harm  to  the  farmers  and  my  master  and  your 
family  in  revenge  for  a  little  one.  I  don't  defend  what 
has  been  done,  and  when  Maitre  Huriel  told  me  he  was 
going  to  pasture  his  mules  and  camp  at  Nohant,  as  lie 
does  elsewhere  at  all  seasons,  I  told  him  about  tliis  bit  of 
common  and  advised  him  not  to  let  his  mules  stray  into 


68  The  Bagpipers. 

the  "wheat-fields.  He  promised  he  would  not ;  for  he  is 
not  at  all  ill-disposed.  But  his  temper  is  quick,  and  he 
would  n't  back  down  if  a  whole  crow^I  of  people  fell  upon 
him.  Please  go  back  to  your  own  propert}',  keep  clear  of 
these  beasts,  and  don't  pick  a  quarrel  with  anj'bod}'.  If 
you  are  questioned  to-morrow,  say  you  saw  nothing ;  for 
to  swear  in  a  conrt  of  law  against  a  muleteer  is  quite  as 
dangerous  as  to  swear  against  a  lord." 

Joseph  was  right ;  so  I  gave  in,  and  took  the  road 
towards  home  ;  but  I  was  not  satisfied,  for  backing  down 
before  a  threat  is  wisdom  to  old  men  and  bitter  wrath  to 
3'oung  ones. 

As  I  neared  the  house,  quite  resolved  not  to  go  to  bed, 
I  fancied  I  saw  a  light  in  it.  I  quickened  m}'  steps  and 
finding  the  door,  which  I  had  latched,  wide  open,  I  rushed 
in  and  saw  a  man  in  the  chimnev-corner  lighting  his  pipe 
b}--  a  blaze  he  had  made.  He  turned  round  and  looked 
at  me  as  quietl}''  as  if  the  house  were  his,  and  I  recog- 
nized the  charcoal-blackened  man  whom  Joseph  called 
Huriel. 

M}'  wrath  returned  ;  and  closing  the  door  behind  me 
I  exclaimed  as  I  went  up  to  him :  — 

"Well  done!  I  am  glad  3'ou  have  walked  into  the 
lion's  den.     I  've  a  couple  of  words  to  say  to  3'ou." 

"Three,  if  you  like,"  he  said,  squatting  on  his  heels 
and  drawing  fire  through  his  pipe,  for  the  tobacco  was 
damp  and  did  not  light  readil}'.  Then  he  added,  as  if 
scornfull}^,  "There's  not  even  a  pair  of  tongs  to  pick 
up  the  embers." 

*'  No,"  I  retorted,  "  but  there 's  a  good  cudgel  to  flatten 
3'ou  out  with." 

"And  pray  why?"  he  demanded  without  losing  an 
atom  of  assurance.     "  You   are   angry   because   I    hn'.e 


The  Bagpipers.  69 

entered  3'our  house  without  permission.  Why  were  not 
you  at  home?  I  knocked  on  the  door  and  asked  to  light 
my  pipe,  a  thing  no  one  ever  refuses.  Silence  gives  con- 
sent, so  I  pulled  the  latch.  Why  did  not  3'ou  lock  the 
door  if  3'ou  are  afraid  of  thieves  ?  I  looked  at  the  beds 
and  saw  the  house  was  empty ;  I  lighted  m}-  pipe,  and 
here  I  am.     What  have  you  to  sa^^  to  that  ? " 

So  sayhig,  as  I  tell  you,  he  took  up  his  gun  as  if  to 
examine  the  lock,  but  it  was  reall}*  as  much  as  to  sa}*, 
''If  you  are  armed,  so  am  I;  two  can  pla3'  at  that 
game." 

I  had  an  idea  of  aiming  at  him  to  make  him  respect 
me ;  but  the  longer  I  looked  at  his  blackened  face  the 
more  I  was  struck  with  his  frank  air  and  his  liveh',  jovial 
e3'e,  so  that  I  ceased  to  be  angr3'  and  felt  onl3^  piqued. 
He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-five,  tall  and  strong,  and 
if  washed  and  shaved,  would  have  been  quite  a  handsome 
fellow.  I  put  m3'  gun  down  beside  the  wall  and  went  up 
to  him  without  fear. 

"  Let  us  talk,"  I  said,  sitting  down  b3^  him. 

"  As  3'ou  will,"  he  answered,  la3ing  aside  his  gun. 

"  Is  it  you  they  call  Huriel?" 

"  And  3'Ou  Etienne  Depardieu?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  my  name? " 

"Just  as  3^ou  know  mine,  —  from  our  little  friend 
Joseph  Picot." 

"  Then  they  are  3'our  mules  that  I  have  caught?  " 

"Caught!"  he  exclaimed,  half-rising  in  astonishment. 
Then,  laughing,  he  added:  "You  are  joking!  3'ou  can't 
catch  my  mules." 

"  Yes,  I  can,"  I  said,  "  if  I  catch  and  lead  the  horse." 

"Ha!  3'OU  have  learned  the  trick?"  he  cried,  with  a 
defiant  air.     "  But  how  about  the  dogs?  " 


70  The  Bagpipers. 

"  I  don't  fear  dogs  when  I  've  a  gun  in  m}"  hand.'* 

"Have  YOU  killed  m3'dogs?"  he  shouted,  jumping  up. 
His  face  flamed  with  anger,  wliith  let  me  know  that 
though  he  might  be  jovial  by  nature  he  could  be  terrible 
at  times. 

' '  I  might  have  killed  3'our  dogs,"  I  replied,  "  and  I  might 
have  led  your  mules  into  a  farmyard  where  j^ou  would 
have  found  a  dozen  strong  fellows  to  deal  with.  I  did 
not  do  it  because  Joseph  told  me  you  were  alone,  and  that 
it  was  not  fair  for  a  mere  piece  of  mischief  to  put  you  in 
danger  of  losing  your  life.  I  agreed  to  that  reason.  But 
now  we  are  one  to  one.  Your  beasts  have  injured  my 
field  and  my  sister's  field,  and  what's  more,  3'ou  have 
entered  my  house  in  my  absence,  which  is  improper  and 
insolent.  You  will  beg  pardon  for  your  behavior  and  pay 
damages  for  m}^  oats,  or  —  " 

"  Or  what?  "  he  said,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Or  we  will  settle  the  matter  according  to  the  laws  and 
customs  of  Berry,  which  are,  I  think,  the  same  as  those 
of  the  Bourbonnais  where  fists  are  law3'ers." 

"That  is  to  saj^,  the  law  of  the  strongest,"  he  replied, 
turning  up  his  sleeves.  "  That  suits  me  better  than 
going  before  the  justices,  and  if  3'ou  are  reall3^  alone  and 
don't  play  traitor  —  " 

"  Come  outside,"  I  said,  "  and  3'ou  shall  see  that  I  am 
alone.  You  are  wrong  to  insult  me  in  that  wa3^  for  I 
might  have  shot  3'ou  as  I  came  in.  But  guns  are  made 
to  kill  wolves  and  mad  dogs.  I  did  n't  want  to  treat  you 
like  a  beast,  and  though  3'ou  have  a  chance  to  shoot  me 
at  this  moment  I  think  it  cowardl3'  for  men  to  pepper 
each  other  with  balls  when  fists  were  given  to  human 
beings  to  fight  with.  As  to  that,  I  don't  think  3'ou  are 
a  greater  fool  than  I,  and  if  you  have  got  pluck  —  " 


The  Bagpipers,  71 

"  M}'  lad,"  he  said,  pulling  me  towards  the  fire  to  look 
at  me,  "  perhaps  3'ou  are  making  a  mistake.  You  are 
3'ounger  than  I  am,  and  though  you  look  pretty  wir\'  and 
solid  I  would  n't  answer  for  that  skin  of  yours.  I  would 
much  rather  3'ou  spoke  me  fairly  about  3'our  damages 
and  trusted  to  my  honest3\" 

"Enough,"  I  said,  knocking  his  hat  into  the  ashes  to 
anger  him  ;  "  the  best  bruised  of  us  two  will  get  jus- 
tice presently'." 

He  quietly  picked  np  his  hat  and  laid  it  on  the  table 
saying,  — 

"  What  are  the  rules  in  this  part  of  the  country?  " 

"  Among  young  fellows,"  I  replied,  "  there  is  no  ill- 
will  or  treacher3\  We  seize  each  other  round  the  bod3', 
or  strike  where  we  can  except  on  the  face.  He  who 
takes  a  stick  or  a  stone  is  thought  a  scoundrel." 

^'  That  is  not  exactly  our  wa3',"  he  said.  "  But  come 
on,  I  shan't  spare  you  ;  if  I  hit  harder  than  I  mean  to, 
surrender ;  for  there  's  a  time,  you  know,  when  one  can't 
answer  for  one's  self." 

Once  outside  on  the  thick  sward  we  off  coats  (not  to 
spoil  them  uselessl3'),  and  began  to  wrestle,  clasping  thighs 
and  liftino*  one  another  bodilv.  I  had  the  advantasje  of 
him  there,  for  he  was  taller  than  I  1^3^  a  head,  and  in 
bending  over  he  gave  me  a  better  grip.  Besides,  he  was 
not  angr3',  and  thinking  he  would  soon  get  the  better  of 
me,  he  did  n't  put  forth  his  strength.  So  being,  I  was 
able  to  floor  him  at  the  third  round,  falling  on  top  of  him, 
but  there  he  recovered  himself,  and  before  I  had  time 
to  strike  he  wound  himself  round  me  like  a  snake  and 
squeezed  me  so  closely  that  I  lost  m3'  breath.  Never- 
tlieless,  I  managed  to  get  up  first  and  attack  him  again. 
When  he  saw  that  he  had  to  do  with  a  free  hitter,  and 


72  The  Bagpipers. 

caught  it  well  in  the  stomach  and  on  the  shoulders,  ho 
gave  me  as  good  as  I  sent,  and  I  must  own  that  his  fist 
was  like  a  sledge-hammer.  But  I  would  have  died  sooner 
than  show  I  felt  it ;  and  each  time  that  he  cried  out,  "  Sur- 
render !  "  I  plucked  up  courage  and  strength  to  pa}'  him  in 
his  own  coin.  So  for  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour  the  fight 
seemed  even.  Presentl}',  however,  I  felt  I  was  getting  ex- 
hausted while  he  was  onl}'  warming  to  the  work  ;  for  if  he 
had  less  activity  than  I,  his  age  and  temperament  were  in 
his  favor.  The  end  of  it  was  that  I  was  down  beneath  him 
and  fairly  beaten  and  unable  to  release  m3'self.  But  for 
all  that  I  would  n't  cry  mercy  ;  and  when  he  saw  that  I 
would  rather  be  killed  he  behaved  like  a  generous  fellow. 

*'Come,  enough!"  he  cried,  loosing  his  grip  on  my 
throat ;  "  your  will  is  stronger  than  your  bones,  I  see  that, 
and  I  might  break  them  to  bits  before  you  would  give  in. 
That 's  right !  and  as  you  are  a  true  man  let  us  be  friends. 
I  beg  your  pardon  for  entering  j-our  house  ;  and  now  let 
ns  talk  over  the  damage  my  mules  have  done  to  you.  I 
am  as  ready  to  pay  you  as  to  fight  you ;  and  afterwards, 
you  shall  give  me  a  glass  of  wine  so  that  we  may  part 
good  friends." 

The  bargain  concluded,  I  pocketed  three  crowns  which 
he  paid  me  for  m3'self  and  my  brother-in-law  ;  then  I  dre^V 
the  wine  and  we  sat  down  to  table.  Three  flagons  of  two 
pints  each  disappeared,  for  we  were  both  thirsty  enough 
after  the  game  we  had  been  playing,  and  Maitre  Huriel 
had  a  carcass  which  could  hold  as  much  as  he  liked  to  put 
into  it.  I  found  him  a  good  fellow,  a  fine  talker,  and  eas}* 
to  get  on  with  ;  and  I,  not  wishing  to  seem  ])ehindhand  in 
words  or  actions,  filled  his  glass  ever}'  two  minutes  and 
swore  friendship  till  the  roof  i*ang. 

Apparently,  he  felt  no  eflfects  of  the  fight.     1  felt  them 


The  Bagpipers,  73 

badly  enough  ;  but  not  wishing  to  show  it,  I  proposed  a 
song,  and  squeezed  one,  with  some  difficult}^,  from  my 
throat,  which  was  still  hot  from  the  grip  of  his  hands. 
He  only  laughed. 

"  Comrade,"  said  he,  "  neither  you  nor  3'ours  know 
anything  about  singing.  Your  tunes  are  as  flat  and  your 
wind  as  stifled  as  3'our  ideas  and  3'our  pleasures.  You 
are  a  race  of  snails,  alwa3's  snuffing  the  same  wind  and 
sucking  the  same  bark ;  for  3'ou  think  the  world  ends  at 
those  blue  liills  which  limit  your  sky  and  which  are  the 
forests  of  m}'  native  land.  I  tell  you,  Tiennet,  that's 
where  the  world  begins,  and  you  would  have  to  walk 
prett}"  fast  for  many  a  night  and  day  before  3'ou  got  out 
of  those  grand  woods,  to  which  yours  are  but  a  patch  of 
pea-brush.  And  when  3'ou  do  get  out  of  them  you  will 
find  mountains  and  more  forests,  such  as  3'ou  have  never 
seen,  of  the  tall  handsome  fir-trees  of  Auvergne,  unknown 
to  3'Our  rich  plains.  But  what 's  the  good  of  telling  you 
about  these  places  that  3'ou  will  never  see?  You  Beny 
folks  are  like  stones  which  roll  from  one  rut  to  another, 
coming  back  to  the  right  hand  when  the  cart-wheels  have 
shoved  them  for  a  time  to  the  left.  You  breathe  a  heavy 
atmosphere,  you  love  your  ease,  you  have  no  curiosit3' ; 
3^ou  cherish  your  mone3^  and  don't  spend  it,  but  also  you 
don't  know  how  to  increase  it ;  3-ou  have  neither  nerve 
nor  invention.  I  don't  mean  you  personally,  Tiennet ;  you 
know  how  to  fight  (in  defence  of  your  own  propert3'),  ^^^^ 
3'OU  don't  know  how  to  acquire  propert3'  b3^  industr3'  as  we 
muleteers  do,  travelling  from  place  to  place,  and  taking,  by 
fair  means  or  foul,  what  is  n't  given  with  a  good  will." 

*'0h!  I  agree  to  all  that,"  I  answered;  "but  don't 
3'OU  call  3'ours  a  brigand's  trade?  Come,  friend  Huriel, 
wouldn't  it  be  better  to  be  less  rich  and  more  honest? 


74  The  Bagpipers. 

for  when  it   comes  to  old  age  will  you  enjoy  your   ill- 
gotten  propert}'  with  a  clear  conscience  ?  " 

"Ill-gotten!  Look  here,  friend  Tiennet,"  he  said, 
laughing,  "  you  who  have,  I  suppose,  like  all  the  small 
proprietors  about  here,  a  couple  of  dozen  sheep,  two  or 
three  goats,  and  perhaps  an  old  mare  that  feeds  on  the 
common,  do  you  go  and  offer  reparation  if,  by  accident, 
your  beasts  bark  your  neighbor's  trees  and  trample  his 
young  wheat?  Don't  3'ou  call  in  your  animals  as  fast  as 
3'ou  can,  without  saying  a  word  about  it ;  and  if  your 
neighbors  take  the  law  of  30U,  don't  3'ou  curse  them  and 
the  law  too?  And  if  3'OU  could,  without  danger,  get  them 
off  into  a  corner,  would  n't  3'ou  make  amends  to  yourself 
b}'  belaboring  their  shoulders?  I  tell  you,  it  is  either  cow- 
ardice or  force  that  makes  you  respect  the  law,  and  it  is 
because  we  avoid  both  that  3'Ou  blame  us,  out  of  jealous}' 
of  the  freedom  that  we  have  known  how  to  snatch." 

"I  don't  like  your  queer  morality,  Huriel ;  but  what 
has  all  this  got  to  do  v/ith  music?  Wh}'  do  you  laugh  at 
m}'  song?     Do  you  know  a  better?  " 

"I  don't  pretend  to,  Tiennet ;  but  I  tell  jovl  that  music, 
liberty,  beautiful  wild  scenery,  livel}'  minds,  and,  if  you 
choose,  the  art  of  making  money  without  getting  stupe- 
lied,  —  all  belong  together  like  fingers  to  the  hand.  I  tell 
you  that  shouting  is  not  singing ;  3'Ou  can  bellow  like  deaf 
folks  in  your  liekls  and  taverns,  but  that 's  not  mnsic. 
Music  is  on  our  side  of  those  hills,  and  not  on  yours.  Your 
friend  Joseph  felt  this,  for  his  senses  are  more  delicate 
than  yours  ;  in  fact,  my  little  Tiennet,  I  should  only  lose 
ni}'  time  in  trying  to  show  yon  the  difference.  You  are  a 
Berrichon,  as  a  swallow  is  a  swallow ;  and  what  3'Ou  are 
to-day  3'OU  will  be  fift3^  3'ears  hence.  Your  head  will 
whiten,  but  your  brain  will  never  be  a  da3'  older." 


The  Bagpipers.  75 

"Why,  do  you  think  me  a  fool?"  I  asked,  rather 
mortified. 

"  Fool?  Not  at  all,"  he  said.  "  Frank  as  to  heart  and 
shrewd  as  to  interest,  —  that 's  what  you  are  and  ever  will 
be ;  but  living  in  body  and  hvel}^  in  soul  3'ou  never  can 
be.  And  this  is  wh}^,  Tiennet,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the 
furniture  of  the  room.  "  See  these  big-beUied  beds  where 
you  sleep  in  feathers  up  to  your  e3'es.  You  are  spade 
and  pickaxe  folk,  —  toilers  in  the  sun,  —  but  3'ou  must 
have  your  down}^  beds  to  rest  in.  We  forest  fellows  would 
soon  be  ill  if  we  had  to  bur}'  ourselves  alive  in  sheets  and 
blankets.  A  log  hut,  a  fern  bed,  —  that 's  our  home  and 
our  furniture ;  even  those  of  us  who  travel  constantl}' 
and  don't  mind  paying  the  inn  charges,  can't  stand  a  roof 
over  our  heads  ;  we  sleep  in  the  open  air  in  tlie  depth  of 
winter,  on  the  pack-saddles  of  our  mules,  with  the  snow 
for  a  coverlet.  Here  you  have  dresses  and  tables  and 
chairs  and  fine  china,  ground  glass,  good  wine,  a  roast- 
ing-jack and  soup-pots,  and  heaven  knows  what?  You 
think  you  must  have  all  that  to  make  you  happy  ;  you 
work  3'our  jaws  like  cows  that  chew  the  cud  ;  and  so, 
when  obliged  to  get  upon  your  feet  and  go  back  to  work, 
3'OU  have  a  pain  in  3'our  chest  two  or  three  times  a  da3'. 
You  are  heavy,  and  no  gaver  at  heart  than  3'Our  beasts  of 
burden.  On  Sunda3's  3'ou  sit,  with  3'our  elbows  on  the 
table,  eating  more  than  your  hunger  tells  3'ou  to,  and 
drinking  more  than  your  thirst  requires  ;  3'ou  think  3'ou 
are  amusing  yourself  bv'  storing  up  indigestion  and  sigh- 
ing after  girls  who  are  only  bored  with  3'ou  though  the3" 
don't  know  wh3',  — 3'our  partners  in  those  dragging  dances 
in  rooms  and  barns  where  3'ou  suffocate ;  turning  your 
holida3's  and  festivals  into  a  burden  the  more  upon  3'our 
spirits  and  stomachs.     Yes,  Tiennet,  that's  the  life  3'ou 


76  The  Bagpipers. 

live.  To  indulge  3'our  ease  3'on  increase  your  wants,  and 
in  order  to  live  well  3'ou  don't  live  at  all." 

"  And  how  do  you  live,  3'ou  muleteers?"  I  said,  rather 
shaken  b3'  his  remarks.  "  I  don't  speak  now  of  3'our  part 
of  the  countr3^,  of  w^hich  I  know  nothing,  but  of  3'OU,  a 
muleteer,  whom  I  see  there  before  me,  drinking  hard, 
with  3'our  elbows  on  the  table,  not  sony  to  find  a  fire  to 
light  3'our  pipe  and  a  Christian  to  talk  with.  Are  3'ou 
made  different  from  other  men  ?  When  3'ou  have  led  this 
hard  life  3'ou  boast  of  for  a  score  of  years,  won't  3'OU 
spend  3'our  mone3^,  which  you  have  amassed  by  depriving 
3'ourself  of  everything,  in  procuring  a  wife,  a  house,  a 
table,  a  good  bed,  good  wine,  and  rest  at  last?" 

"  What  a  lot  of  questions,  Tiennet !  "  replied  m3'  guest. 
*'  You  argue  fairly  well  for  a  Berrichon.  I  '11  tr3'  to  answer 
you.  You  see  me  drink  and  talk  because  I  am  a  man  and 
like  wine.  Compan3'  and  the  pleasures  of  the  table  please 
me  even  more  than  the3^  do  3'Ou,  for  the  ver3'  good  reason 
that  I  don't  need  them  and  am  not  accustomed  to  them. 
Always  afoot,  snatching  a  mouthful  as  I  can,  drinking  at 
the  brooks,  sleeping  under  the  first  oak  I  come  to,  of 
course  it  is  a  feast  for  me  to  come  across  a  good  table  and 
plent3^  of  good  wine  ;  but  it  is  a  feast,  and  not  a  necessit3-. 
To  me,  living  alone  for  weeks  at  a  time,  the  societ3"  of  a 
friend  is  a  holida3' ;  I  sa3^  more  to  him  in  one  hour's  talk 
than  3'ou  would  sa3'  in  a  da3^  at  a  tavern.  I  enjoy  all,  and 
more,  than  3'ou  fellows  do,  because  I  abuse  nothing.  If  a 
prett3^  girl  or  a  forward  woman  comes  after  me  in  the 
woods  to  tell  me  that  she  loves  me,  she  knows  I  have  no 
time  to  dangle  after  her  like  a  ninny  and  wait  her  pleas- 
ure ;  and  I  admit  that  in  the  matter  of  love  I  prefer  that 
which  is  soon  found  to  that  3'ou  have  to  search  and 
wait  for.     As  to  the  future,  Tiennet,  I  don't  know  if  I 


The  Bagpipers.  17 

shall  ever  have  a  home  and  a  family ;  but  if  I  do,  I  shall 
be  more  grateful  to  the  good  God  than  you  are,  and  I 
shall  enjoy  its  sweetness  more,  too.  But  I  swear  that  my 
helpmate  shall  not  be  one  of  your  buxom,  red-faced 
women,  let  her  be  ever  so  rich.  A  man  who  loves  liberty 
and  true  happiness  never  marries  for  mone}'.  I  shall 
never  love  any  woman  who  is  n't  slender  and  fair  as  a 
young  birch,  —  one  of  those  dainty,  liveh"  darlings,  who 
grow  in  the  shady  woods  and  sing  better  than  your 
nightingales." 

"  A  girl  like  Brulette,"  I  thought  to  myself.  *'  Luckily 
she  is  n't  here,  for  though  she  despises  all  of  us,  she 
might  take  a  fancy  to  this  blackamoor,  if  only  by  way  of 
oddity." 

The  muleteer  went  on  talking. 

*' And  so,  Tiennet,  I  don't  blame  you  for  following  the 
road  that  lies  before  you  ;  but  mine  goes  farther  and  I 
like  it  best.  I  am  glad  to  know  you,  and  if  you  ever  want 
me  send  for  me.  I  can't  ask  the  same  of  you,  for  I  know 
that  a  dweller  on  the  plains  makes  his  will  and  confesses 
to  the  priest  before  he  travels  a  dozen  leagues  to  see  a 
friend.  But  with  us  it  is  n't  so  ;  we  fly  like  the  swallows, 
and  can  be  met  almost  everywhere.  Good-bye.  Shake 
hands.  If  you  get  tired  of  a  peasant's  life  call  the  black 
crow  from  the  Bourbonnais  to  get  you  out  of  it ;  he  '11 
remember  that  he  pla3'ed  the  bagpipe  on  your  back  with- 
out anger,  and  surrendered  to  your  bravery." 


78  Tlie  Bagpipers, 


SEVENTH   EVENING. 

Thereupon  Huriel  departed  to  find  Joseph,  and  I  went 
to  bed;  for  if  up  to  that  time  I  had  concealed  out  of 
pride  and  forgotten  out  of  curiosity  the  ache  in  my  bones, 
I  was  none  the  less  bruised  from  head  to  foot.  Maitre 
Huriel  walked  off  g^y\y  enough,  apparently  without  feeling 
anything,  but  as  for  me  I  was  obliged  to  stay  in  bed  for 
nearl}'  a  week,  spitting  blood,  with  ni}-  stomach  all  upset. 
Joseph  came  to  see  me  and  did  not  know  what  to  make  of 
it  all ;  for  I  was  shy  of  telling  him  the  truth,  because  it 
appeared  that  Huriel,  in  speaking  to  him  of  me,  hadn't 
mentioned  how  we  came  to  an  explanation. 

Great  was  the  amazement  of  the  neighborhood  over  the 
injury  done  to  the  wheat-fields  of  Aulnieres,  and  the 
mule-tracks  along  the  roads  were  something  to  wonder  at. 
When  I  gave  my  brother-in-law  the  money  I  had  earned 
with  m}'  sore  bones  I  told  him  the  whole  story  secretl}',  and 
as  he  was  a  good,  prudent  fellow,  no  one  got  wind  of  it. 

Joseph  had  left  his  bagpipe  at  Brulette's  and  could  not 
make  use  of  it,  partl}^  because  the  having  left  him  no  time, 
and  also  because  Brulette,  fearing  Carnat's  spite,  did  her 
best  to  put  him  out  of  the  notion  of  playing. 

Joseph  pretended  to  give  in ;  but  we  soon  saw  that  he 
was  concocting  some  other  plan  and  thinking  to  hire  him- 
self out  in  another  parish,  where  he  could  slip  his  collar 
and  do  as  he  pleased. 

About  midsummer  he  gave  warning  to  his  master  to  get 
another  man  in  his  place  ;  but  it  was  imposuible  to  get  him 


The  Bagpipers.  79 

to  say  where  he  was  going  ;  and  as  he  alwa3's  replied,  "  I 
don't  know,"  to  an}-  question  lie  did  n't  choose  to  answer, 
we  began  to  think  he  would  reall}^  let  himself  be  hired  in  the 
market-place,  like  the  rest,  without  caring  where  he  went. 

As  the  Christians'  Fair,  so-called,  is  one  of  the  great 
festivals  of  the  town,  Brulette  went  there  to  dance,  and  so 
did  I.  We  thought  we  should  meet  Joseph  and  find  out 
before  the  end  of  the  day  what  master  and  what  region  he 
had  chosen.  But  he  did  not  appear  either  morning  or 
evening  on  the  market-place.  No  one  saw  him  in  the 
town.  He  had  left  his  bagpipe,  but  he  had  carried  off, 
the  night  before,  all  the  articles  he  usually  left  in  Pere 
Brulet's  house. 

That  evening  as  we  came  home,  —  Brulette  and  I  and  all 
her  train  of  lovers  with  the  other  3'oung  folks  of  our  parish, 
— she  took  my  arm,  and  walking  on  the  grassj'  side  of  the 
road  away  from  the  others,  she  said :  — 

'*  Do  3'ou  know,  Tiennet,  that  I  am  very  anxious  about 
Jose?  His  mother,  whom  I  saw  just  now  in  town,  is  full 
of  trouble  and  can't  imagine  where  he  has  gone.  A  long 
time  ago  he  told  her  he  thought  of  going  awa\^ ;  but  now 
she  can't  find  out  where,  and  the  poor  woman  is  miserable." 

"  And  3'ou,  Brulette,"  I  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  3'ou 
are  not  ver3'  ga3',  and  3'Ou  have  n't  danced  with  the  same 
spirit  as  usual." 

'"  That's  true,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  have  a  great  regard 
for  the  poor  lunatic  fellow,  —  parti}'  because  I  ought  to  have 
it,  on  account  of  his  mother,  and  then  for  old  acquaintance' 
sake,  and  also  because  I  care  for  his  fluting." 

*'  Fluting  !  does  it  reall}'  have  such  an  eflect  upon  3'ou  ?  " 

*'  There 's  nothing  wrong  in  its  effect,  cousin.  Whj'  do 
you  find  fault  with  it?" 

"I  don't;  but  —  " 


80  The  Bagpipers. 

"  Come,  say  what  j^ou  mean,"  she  exclaimed,  laughing  ; 
"  for  3'ou  are  always  chanting  some  sort  of  dirge  about  it, 
and  I  want  to  sa}'  amen  to  you  once  for  all,  so  that  I  may 
hear  the  last  of  it." 

**  Well  then,  Brulette,"  I  replied,  "  we  won't  say  another 
word  about  Joseph,  but  let  us  talk  of  ourselves.  Wh}- 
won't  you  see  that  I  have  a  great  love  for  3'ou  ?  and  can't 
you  tell  me  that  3^ou  will  return  it  one  of  these  daj's  ?  " 

'^  Oh  !  oh  !  are  3'ou  talking  seriousl}',  this  time?  " 

"  This  time  and  all  times.  It  has  always  been  serious 
on  my  part,  even  when  shyness  made  me  pretend  to  joke 
about  it." 

"  Then,"  said  Bruletfce,  quickening  her  step  with  me  that 
the  others  might  not  oveihear  us,  ''tell  me  how  and  why 
3'ou  love  me ;  I'll  answer  3'ou  afterwards." 

I  saw  she  wanted  compliments  and  flatter^'-,  but  m^^ 
tongue  was  not  very  ready  at  that  kind  of  thing.  I  did 
my  best,  however,  and  told  her  that  ever  since  I  came  into 
the  world  I  had  never  thought  of  an\'  one  but  her ;  for  she 
was  the  prettiest  and  sweetest  of  girls,  and  had  captivated 
me  even  before  she  was  twelve  3'ears  old. 

I  told  nothing  that  she  did  not  know  alread3^ ;  indeed 
she  said  so,  and  owned  she  had  seen  it  at  the  time  we 
were  catechised.     But  she  added  laughing:  — 

"Now  explain  wh3'  3^ou  have  not  died  of  grief,  for  I 
have  alwa3's  put  3^ou  down  ;  and  tell  me  also  wh3'  3'ou  are 
such  a  fine-grown,  healthy  fellow,  if  love,  as  you  declare, 
has  withered  3^ou." 

"That's  not  talking  seriously,  as  3'ou  promised  me,"  I 
said. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  am  serious,  for  I  shall  never 
choose  any  one  who  can't  swear  that  he  has  never  in  his 
life  fancied,  or  loved,  or  desired  an3'  girl  but  me." 


The  Bagpipers.  81 

"  Then  it  is  all  right,  Brulette,"  I  cried.  '*  If  that's  so, 
I  fear  noboch',  not  even  that  Jose  of  3'ours,  who,  I  will 
allow,  never  looked  at  a  girl  in  his  Ufe,  for  his  e3'es  can't 
even  see  j'ou,  or  he  would  n't  go  away  and  leave  3'ou." 

"Don't  talk  of  Joseph ;  we  agreed  to  let  him  alone," 
replied  Brulette,  rather  sharph',  "  and  as  3'ou  boast  of  such 
very  keeu,  ej'es,  please  confess  that  in  spite  of  3'our  love  for 
me  3^ou  have  ogled  more  than  one  prett3'  girl.  Now, 
don't  tell  fibs,  for  I  hate  13'ing.  What  were  3'ou  saying 
so  ga3'l3'  to  Sylvia  onW  last  3'ear?  And  it  isn't  more  than 
a  couple  of  months  since  you  danced  two  Sundays  run- 
ning, under  m3"  ver3'  nose,  with  that  big  Bonnina.  Do  3'ou 
think  I  am  biirnd,  and  that  nobody  comes  and  tells  me 
things?" 

I  was  rather  mortified  at  first ;  but  then,  encouraged  by 
the  thought  that  there  was  a  spice  of  jealous3^  in  Brulette, 
I  answered,  frankl3',  — 

"  What  I  was  saying  to  such  girls,  cousin,  is  not  proper 
to  repeat  to  a  person  I  respect.  A  fellow  ma3"  pla3^  the 
fool  sometimes  to  amuse  himself,  and  the  regret  he  feels 
for  it  afterwards  onl3^  proves  that  his  heart  and  soul  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it." 

Brulette  colored  ;  but  she  answered  immediatel3',  — 

"Then,  can  3'ou  swear  to  me,  Tiennet,  that  ray  char- 
acter and  my  face  have  never  been  lowered  in  your  esteem 
133'  the  prettiness  or  the  amiabilit3'  of  an3'  other  girl,  — 
never,  since  you  were  born  ?  " 

"  I  will  swear  to  it,"  I  said. 

"  Swear,  then,"  she  said  ;  "  but  give  all  3^our  mind,  and 
all  3'our  religion  to  what  3'OU  are  going  to  sa3^  Swear  bv 
your  father  and  your  mother,  b3'  3'our  conscience  and  the 
good  God,  that  no  girl  ever  seemed  to  you  as  beautiful 
as  I." 

6 


82  The  Bagpipers. 

I  was  about  to  swear,  when,  I  am  sure  I  don't  know 
wh}",  a  recollection  made  m}'  tongue  tremble.  Perhaps  I 
was  very  silly  to  heed  it ;  a  shrewder  fellow  would  n't  have 
done  so,  but  I  could  n't  lie  at  the  moment  when  a  certain 
image  came  clearly  before  m^^  mind.  And  yet,  I  had 
totally  forgotten  it  up  to  that  very  moment,  and  should 
probabl}'  never  have  remembered  it  at  all  if  it  had  not 
been  for  Brulette's  questions  and  adjurations. 

"  You  are  in  no  hurry  to  swear,"  she  said,  "  but  I 
like  that  best ;  I  shall  respect  you  for  the  truth  and 
despise  you  for  a  lie." 

"Well  then,  Brulette,"  I  answered,  "  as  you  want  me 
to  tell  the  exact  truth  I  will  do  so.  In  all  my  life  I  have 
seen  two  girls,  two  children  I  might  say,  between  whom  I 
might  have  wavered  as  to  preference  if  any  one  had  said 
to  me  (for  I  was  a  child  myself  at  the  time) ,  *  Here  are 
two  little  darlings  who  ma}^  listen  to  you  in  after  days ; 
choose  which  you  will  have  for  a  wife.'  I  should  doubt- 
less have  answered,  '  I  choose  my  cousin,'  because  I  knew 
how  amiable  you  were,  and  I  knew  nothing  of  the  other, 
having  only  seen  her  for  ten  minutes.  And  yet,  when  I 
came  to  think  of  it,  it  is  possible  I  might  have  felt  some 
regret,  not  because  her  beauty  was  greater  than  yours,  for 
I  don't  think  that  possible,  but  because  she  gave  me  a 
good  kiss  on  both  cheeks,  which  you  never  gave  me  in 
your  life.  So  I  conclude  that  she  is  a  girl  who  will  some 
day  give  her  heart  generoush',  whereas  your  discretion 
holds  me  and  always  has  held  me  in  fear  and  trembling." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  asked  Brulette,  who  seemed 
struck  by  what  I  said.     "What  is  her  name?" 

She  was  much  surprised  to  hear  that  I  knew  neither 
her  name  nor  the  place  she  lived  in,  and  that  I  called  her 
in  my  memory  "the  girl  of  the  woods."     I  told  her  the 


The  Bagpipers.  83 

little  story  of  the  cart  that  stuck  in  the  mud,  and  she 
asked  me  a  variet}^  of  questions  which  I  conld  not  answer, 
my  recollections  being  mnch  confused  and  the  whole  affair 
being  of  less  interest  to  me  than  Brulette  supposed.  She 
turned  over  in  her  head  every  word  she  got  out  of  me, 
and  it  almost  seemed  as  if  she  were  questioning  herself, 
with  some  vexation,  to  know  if  she  were  pretty  enough 
to  be  so  exacting,  and  whether  frankness  or  coyness  was 
the  best  way  of  pleasing  the  lads. 

Perhaps  she  was  tempted  for  a  moment  to  try  coquetry 
and  make  me  forget  the  little  vision  that  had  come  into 
my  head,  and  which,  for  more  reasons  than  one,  had  dis- 
pleased her ;  but  after  a  few  joking  words  she  answered 
seriously  :  — 

"  No,  Tiennet,  I  won't  blame  you  for  having  ej^es  to  see 
a  pretty  girl  when  the  matter  is  as  innocent  and  natural 
as  3'ou  tell  me ;  but  nevertheless  it  makes  me  think  seri- 
ousl}',  I  hardly  know  wh}',  about  myself.  Cousin,  I  am 
a  coquette.  I  feel  the  fever  of  it  to  the  very  roots  of 
m}'  hair.  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  ever  be  cured  of  it ; 
but,  such  as  I  am,  I  look  upon  love  and  marriage  as  the 
end  of  all  Yny  comfort  and  pleasure.  I  am  eighteen,  —  old 
enough  to  reflect.  Well,  reflection  comes  to  me  like  a 
blow  on  the  stomach ;  whereas  you  have  been  considering 
how  to  get  yourself  a  happy  home  ever  since  3'ou  were 
fifteen  or  sixteen,  and  your  simple  heart  has  given  3'ou  an 
honest  answer.  What  you  need  is  a  wife  as  simple  and 
honest  as  yourself,  without  caprices,  or  pride,  or  foil}' :  I 
should  deceive  you  shamefully'  if  I  told  you  tliat  I  am  the 
right  kind  of  girl  for  3'ou.  Whether  from  caprice  or  dis- 
trust I  don't  know,  but  I  have  no  inclination  for  an}'  of 
those  I  can  choose  from,  and  I  can't  say  that  I  ever  shall 
have.     The  longer  I  live  the  more  my  freedom  and  my 


84  The  Bagpijjers. 

light-lieartedness  satisf}^  me.  Therefore  be  1113-  friend, 
1113^  comrade,  1113'  cousin  ;  I  will  love  3'ou  just  as  I  love 
Joseph,  and  better,  if  3'ou  are  faithful  to  our  friendship  ; 
but  don't  think  any  more  about  marr3'ing  me.  I  know 
that  3'our  relations  would  be  opposed  to  it,  and  so  am  I, 
in  spite  of  myself,  and  with  great  regret  for  disappointing 
you.  See,  the  others  are  coming  after  us  to  break  up  this 
long  talk.  Promise  me  not  to  sulk  ;  choose  a  course  ;  be 
my  brother.  If  3'ou  sa3^  yes,  we  '11  build  the  midsummer 
bonfire  when  we  get  back  to  the  village,  and  open  the 
dance  together  gaylv." 

*' Well,  Brulette,"  I  answered,  sighing,  "  it  shall  be  as 
you  sa3'.  1  '11  do  my  best  not  to  love  3'Ou,  except  as  3'ou 
wish,  and  in  an3'  case  I  shall  still  be  3^our  cousin  and 
good  friend,  as  in  dut3-  bound." 

She  took  m3^  hand  and  ran  with  me  to  the  village 
market-place,  delighted  to  make  her  lovers  scamper  after 
her ;  there  we  found  that  the  old  people  had  alread3'  piled 
np  the  fagots  and  straw  of  the  bonfire.  Brulette,  being 
the  first  to  arrive,  was  called  to  sot  fire  to  it,  and  soon 
the  flames  darted  higher  than  the  church  porch. 

We  had  no  music  to  dance  b3'  until  Carnat's  son, 
named  Francois,  came  along  with  his  bagpipe  ;  and  he 
was  ver3'  willing  to  play,  for  he,  too,  like  the  rest,  was 
putting  his  best  foot  foremost  to  please  Brulette. 

So  we  opened  the  ball  joyously,  but  after  a  minute  or 
two  ever3bod3^  cried  out  that  the  music  tired  their  legs. 
Franc^ois  Carnat  was  new  at  the  business,  and  though  he 
did  his  best,  we  found  we  could  n't  get  along.  He  let  us 
make  fun  of  him,  however,  and  kept  on  playing,  — being, 
as  I  suppose,  rather  glad  of  the  practice,  as  it  was  the 
first  time  he  had  pla3'ed  for  people  to  dance. 

Nobod3^  liked  it,  however,   and  when   the  3'oung  men 


The  Bagpipers,  85 

found  that  dancing,  instead  of  resting  their  tired  legs, 
only  tired  them  more,  they  talked  of  bidding  good-night 
or  spending  the  eA-ening  in  the  tavern.  Brulette  and  the 
other  girls  exclaimed  against  that,  and  told  us  we  were 
unmannerly  lads  and  clodhoppers.  This  led  to  an  argu- 
ment, in  the  midst  of  which,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  tall,  hand- 
some fellow  appeared,  before  it  could  be  seen  where  he 
came  from. 

"  Hallo  there,  children  ! "  he  cried,  in  such  a  loud  tone 
that  it  drowned  our  racket  and  forced  us  to  listen.  "If 
5'ou  want  to  go  on  dancing,  you  shall.  Here  's  a  bagpiper 
who  will  pipe  for  you  as  long  as  3'ou  like,  and  won't  ask 
anything  for  his  trouble.  Give  me  that,"  he  said  to  Fran- 
9ois  Carnat,  taking  hold  of  his  bagpipe,  "  and  listen  ;  it 
may  do  3'ou  good,  for  though  music  is  not  my  business, 
I  know  more  about  it  than  j^ou.'^ 

Then,  without  waiting  for  Frangois's  consent,  he  blew 
out  tlie  bag  and  began  to  play,  amid  cries  of  joy  from  the 
girls  and  with  man}'  thanks  from  the  lads. 

At  his  very  first  words  I  had  recognized  the  Bourbon- 
nais  accent  of  the  muleteer,  but  I  could  hardly  believe  my 
e^'es,  so  changed  was  he  for  the  better  in  looks.  Instead 
of  his  coal-dust}"  smock-frock,  his  old  leathern  gaiters,  his 
battered  hat,  and  his  grim}'  face,  he  had  a  new  suit  of 
clothes  of  fine  white  woollen  stuff  streaked  with  blue, 
handsome  linen,  a  straw  hat  with  colored  ribbons,  his 
beard  trimmed,  his  face  washed  and  as  rosy  as  a  peach. 
In  short,  he  was  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  saw ;  grand 
as  an  oak,  well-made  in  every  part  of  him,  clean-limbed 
and  vigorous ;  with  teeth  that  were  bits  of  ivor}',  ej'es 
like  the  blades  of  a  knife,  and  the  affable  air  and  manners 
of  a  gentleman.  He  ogled  all  the  girls,  smiled  at  the 
beauties,  laughed  with   the  plain   ones,  and  was   merrj-. 


86  The  Bagpipers. 

good  company  with  every  one,  encouraging  and  inspiriting 
the  dancers  with  q\q  and  foot  and  voice  (for  he  did  not 
blow  much  into  his  bagpipe,  so  clever  was  he  in  managing 
his  wind),  and  shouting  between  the  puff's  a  dozen  droll- 
eries and  funny  sayings,  which  put  everybody  in  good 
humor  for  the  evening. 

Moreover,  instead  of  doling  out  exact  measure  like  an 
ordinary  piper,  and  stopping  short  when  he  had  earned 
his  two  sous  for  every  couple,  he  went  on  bagpiping  a  full 
quarter  of  an  hour,  changing  his  tunes  3'ou  could  n't  tell 
how,  for  they  ran  into  one  another  without  showing  the 
join ;  in  short,  it  was  the  best  reel  music  ever  heard,  and 
quite  unknown  in  our  parts,  but  so  enlivening  and  dance- 
able  that  we  all  seemed  to  be  flying  in  the  air  instead  of 
jigging  about  on  the  grass. 

I  think  he  would  have  played  and  w^e  should  have 
danced  all  night  without  getting  tired,  if  it  had  not  been 
that  Pere  Carnat,  hearing  the  music  from  the  wine-shop 
of  La  Biaude  and  wondering  much  that  his  son  could  plaj'' 
so  well,  came  proudly  over  to  listen.  But  when  he  saw 
his  own  bagpipe  in  the  hands  of  a  stranger,  and  Francois 
dancing  away  without  seeing  the  harm  of  yielding  his 
place,  he  was  furious  ;  and  pushing  the  muleteer  from 
behind,  he  made  him  jump  from  the  stone  on  which  he 
was  perched  into  the  very  middle  of  the  dancers. 

Maitre  Huriel  was  a  good  deal  surprised,  and  turning 
round  he  saw  Carnat,  red  with  anger,  ordering  him  to 
give  up  the  instrument. 

You  never  knew  Carnat  the  piper?  He  was  getting  in 
years  even  then,  but  he  was  still  as  sturd}'  and  vicious 
as  an  old  devil. 

The  mulet'eer  began  by  showing  fight,  but  noticing 
Carnat's    white    hair,    he   returned   the    bagpipe   gently, 


The  Bagpipers.  87 

remarking,  "You  might  have  spoken  with  more  civilit}', 
old  fellow ;  but  if  you  don't  like  me  to  take  yoxiv  place  I 
give  it  up  to  3'ou,  —  all  the  more  willingly  that  I  should  like 
to  dance  myself,  if  the  young  people  will  allow  a  stranger 
in  their  compan3\" 

"  Yes,  yes  !  come  and  dance !  3'Ou  have  earned  it,"  cried 
the  whole  parish,  who  had  turned  out  to  hear  the  fine 
music  and  were  charmed  with  him,  —  old  and  young  both. 

"Then,"  he  said,  taking  Brulette's  hand,  for  he  had 
looked  at  her  more  than  at  all  the  rest,  "  I  ask,  by  waj^ 
of  paj'ment,  to  be  allowed  to  dance  with  this  pretty  girl, 
even  though  she  be  engaged  to  some  one  else." 

"She  is  engaged  to  me,  Huriel,"  said  I,  "  but  as  we 
are  friends,  I  jield  m^^  rights  to  3'ou  for  this  dance." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  he,  shaking  hands;  then  he 
whispered  in  m3'  ear,  "  I  pretended  not  to  know  3'ou  ;  but 
if  you  see  no  harm  to  3^ourself  so  much  the  better." 

"Don't  sa3'  3'ou  are  a  muleteer  and  it  is  all  right," 
I  replied. 

While  the  folks  were  questioning  about  the  stranger, 
another  fuss  arose  at  the  musician's  stone.  Pere  Carnat 
refused  to  pla3^  or  to  allow  his  son  to  pla3\  He  even 
scolded  Fran9ois  openl3^  for  letting  an  unknown  man 
supplant  him  ;  and  the  more  people  tried  to  settle  liie 
matter  b3'  telling  him  the  stranger  had  not  taken  an3^ 
mone3',  the  angrier  he  got.  In  fact  when  Pere  Maurice 
Viaud  told  him  he  was  jealous,  and  that  the  stranger  could 
outdo  him  and  all  the  other  neighboring  players,  he  was 
beside  himself  with  rage. 

He  rushed  into  the  midst  of  us  and  demanded  of  Huriel 
whether  he  had  a  license  to  pla3'  the  bagpipes, — which 
made  everybod3'  laugh,  and  the  muleteer  most  of  all.  At 
last,  being  summoned  by  the  old  savage  to  repl}',  Huriel 


88  The  Bagpipers, 

said,  *'  I  don't  know  the  customs  in  3'onr  part  of  the 
countiy,  old  man,  but  I  have  travelled  enough  to  know 
the  laws,  and  I  know  that  nowhere  in  France  do  iirtists 
bu}'  licenses." 

"  Artists  !  "  exclaimed  Carnat,  puzzled  b}*  a  word  which, 
like  the  rest  of  us,  he  had  never  heard,  "  What  does  that 
mean?     Are  you  talking  gibberish?" 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Huriel.  "I  will  call  them  mu- 
sicians if  3'ou  like ;  and  I  assert  that  I  am  free  to  play 
music  wherever  I  please  without  paying  toll  to  the  king 
of  France." 

"Well,  well,  I  know  that,"  answered  Carnat,  "but 
what  3'ou  don't  know  3'ourself  is  that  in  our  part  of  the 
countr}^  musicians  paj^  a  tax  to  an  association  of  public 
players,  and  receive  a  license  after  they  have  been  tried 
and  initiated." 

"  I  know  that  too,"  said  Huriel,  "  and  I  also  know  how 
much  money  is  paid  into  your  pockets  during  those  trials. 
I  advise  you  not  to  tr}'  that  upon  me.  However,  happily 
for  3-0U,  I  don't  practise  the  profession,  and  want  nothing 
in  3'our  parts.  I  pla3'  gratis  where  I  please,  and  no  one 
can  prevent  that,  for  the  reason  that  I  have  got  m3'  degree 
as  master-piper,  which  ver3'  likel3'  3'ou  have  not,  bi-;  as 
3'Ou  talk." 

Carnat  quieted  down  a  little  at  these  words,  and  they 
said  something  privatel3-  to  each  other  that  nobod3'  heard, 
by  which  the3'  discovered  that  the3'  belonged  to  the  same 
corporation,  if  not  to  the  same  compan3'.  The  two  Car- 
nats,  having  no  further  right  to  object,  as  ever)'  one 
present  testified  that  Huriel  had  not  plaved  for  mone)', 
departed  grumbling  and  saying  spiteful  things,  which  no 
one  answered  so  as  to  be  sooner  rid  of  them. 

As  soon  as  they  were  gone  we  called  on  Marie  Guillard, 


The  Bagpipers.  89 

a  lass  with  a  carrying  voice,  and  made  her  sing,  so  that  the 
stranger  might  have  the  pleasure  of  dancing  with  us. 

He  did  not  dance  in  our  fashion,  though  he  accommo- 
dated himself  very  well  to  the  time  and  figures.  But  his 
stj'le  was  much  the  best,  and  gave  such  free  play  to  his 
body  that  he  really  looked  handsomer  and  taller  than 
ever.  Brulette  watched  him  attentively  and  when  he 
kissed  her,  which  is  the  fashion  in  our  parts  when  each 
dance  begins,  she  grew  quite  red  and  confused,  contrary 
to  her  usual  indifferent  and  eas}'  wa}'  of  taking  a  kiss. 

I  argued  from  this  that  she  had  rather  overdone  her 
contempt  for  love  when  talking  with  me  about  mine  ;  but 
I  took  no  notice,  and  I  own  that  in  spite  of  it  all  I  felt  a 
good  deal  set  up  on  my  own  account  by  the  fine  manners 
and  talents  of  the  muleteer. 

When  the  dance  was  over  he  came  up  to  me  with 
Brulette  on  his  arm,  saj-ing,  — 

"  It  is  3'our  turn  now,  comrade  ;  and  I  can't  thank  3'ou 
better  than  by  returning  the  prett}'  dancer  3'ou  lent  me. 
She  is  a  beauty  like  those  of  ni}'  own  land,  and  for  her 
sake  I  do  homage  to  the  Berrichon  girls.  But  whj^  end 
the  evening  so  earl}'?  Is  there  no  other  bagpipe  in  the 
village  besides  that  of  the  old  cross  patch?  " 

''Yes,  there  is,"  said  Brulette  quickl}-,  letting  out  the 
secret  she  wanted  to  keep  in  her  eagerness  for  dancing ; 
then,  catching  herself  up,  she  added,  blushing,  ''That 
is  to  sa}^  there  are  shepherd's  pipes,  and  herd-boj'S  who 
can  play  them  after  a  fashion." 

''Pipes  indeed!'*  cried  the  muleteer;  "if  3'ou  happen 
to  laugh  the}^  go  down  3'our  throat  and  make  3'oa  cough  ! 
M}^  mouth  is  too  big  for  that  kind  of  instrument ;  and  yet 
I  want  to  make  you  dance,  m3^  prett}-  Brulette ;  for  that 
is  your   name,   I   have   heard    it,"    he   said,   drawing   us 


90  The  Bagpipers, 

both  aside  ;  ' '  and  I  know,  too,  that  there  's  a  fine  bagpipe 
in  3'our  house,  which  came  from  the  Bourbonnais,  and 
belongs  to  a  certain  Joseph  Picot,  3'our  friend  from  child- 
hood, and  3'our  companion  at  the  first  communion." 

"Oh!  how  did  3'ou  know  that?"  cried  Brulette,  much 
astonished.  "  Do  30U  know  our  Joseph?  Perhaps  ^'ou 
can  tell  us  where  he  has  gone  ?" 

"Are  3'ou  anxious  about  him?"  said  Huriel,  looking 
narrowly  at  her. 

"  So  anxious  that  I  will  thank  3'ou  with  all  my  heart 
if  you  can  give  rae  news  of  him." 

"Well,  I'll  give  you  some,  m}-  prett}-  one;  but  not 
until  3'Ou  bring  me  his  bagpipe,  which  he  wants  me  to 
carr}^  to  him  at  the  place  where  he  now  is." 

"  What !  "  cried  Brulette,  "  is  he  very  far  awa^^?  " 

"  So  far  that  he  has  no  idea  of  coming  back." 

"Is  that  true?  Won't  he  come  back?  has  he  gone  for 
good  and  all?  That  ends  my  wanting  to  laugh  and  dance 
an}'  more  to-night." 

"Ho,  ho,  pretty  one!"  cried  Huriel;  "so  3-ou  are 
Joseph's  sweetheart,  are  3'OU?  He  did  not  tell  me  that." 

"  I  am  nobod3''s  sweetheart,"  answered  Brulette,  draw- 
ing herself  up. 

"Nevertheless,"  said  the  muleteer,  "here  is  a  token 
which  he  told  me  to  show  3'Ou  in  case  3'Ou  hesitated  to 
trust  me  with  the  bagpipe." 

' '  Where  is  it  ?  what  is  it  ?  "  I  exclaimed. 

"Look  at  my  ear,"  said  the  muleteer,  lifting  a  great 
lock  of  his  curl}"  black  hair  and  showing  us  a  tin3'  silver 
heart  hanging  to  a  large  earring  of  fine  gold,  which  pierced 
his  ears  after  a  fashion  among  the  middle  classes  of  those 
da3's. 

I  think  that  earring  began  to  open  Brulette's  e3'es,  for 


The  Bagpipers,  91 

she  said  to  Hiiriel,  "You  can't  be  what  you  seem  to 
be,  but  I  see  plainly  that  j'ou  are  not  a  man  to  deceive 
poor  folks.  Besides,  that  token  is  really  mine,  or  rather 
it  is  Joseph's,  for  it  is  a  present  his  mother  made  to  me 
on  the  day  of  our  first  communion,  and  I  gave  it  to  him 
the  next  dsij  as  a  remembrance,  when  he  left  home  to  go 
to  service.  So,  Tiennet,"  she  said,  turning  to  me,  "  go  to 
my  house  and  fetch  the  bagpipe,  and  bring  it  over  there, 
under  the  church  porch,  where  it  is  dark,  so  that  people 
can't  see  where  it  comes  from ;  for  Pere  Carnat  is  a 
wicked  old  man  and  might  do  m}^  grandfather  some  harm 
if  he  thought  we  were  mixed  up  in  the  matter." 


92  TJie  Bagpipers. 


EIGHTH  EVENING. 

I  DID  as  I  was  told,  not  pleased,  however,  at  leaving 
Brulette  alone  with  the  muleteer  in  a  place  already  dark- 
ened by  the  coming  night.  When  I  returned,  bringing 
the  bagpipe,  taken  apart  and  folded  up  under  my  blouse, 
I  found  them  still  in  the  same  corner  arguing  over  some- 
thing with  a  good  deal  of  vehemence.  Seeing  me,  Brulette 
said  :  "  Tiennet,  I  take  3^ou  to  witness  that  I  do  not  con- 
sent to  give  this  man  that  token  which  is  hung  on  his 
earring.  He  declares  he  cannot  give  it  back  because  it 
belongs  to  Joseph,  but  he  also  sa3's  that  Joseph  does  no*; 
want  it ;  it  is  a  little  thing,  to  be  sure,  not  worth  ten  sous, 
but  I  don't  choose  to  give  it  to  a  stranger.  I  was  scarcely 
twelve  years  old  when  I  gave  it  to  Jose,  and  people  must 
be  suspicious  to  see  any  meaning  in  that ;  but,  as  they 
will  have  it  so,  it  is  only  the  more  reason  why  I  should 
refuse  to  give  it  to  another." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Brulette  was  taking  unneces- 
sary pains  to  show  the  muleteer  she  was  not  in  love  with 
Joseph,  and  also  that  Huriel,  on  his  side,  was  ver}'  glad 
to  find  her  heart  was  free.  However  that  may  be,  he  did 
not  trouble  himself  to  stop  courting  her  before  me. 

"My  pretty  one,"  he  said,  "you  are  too  suspicious.  I 
would  not  show  your  gifts  to  an}^  one,  even  if  I  had  them 
to  boast  of;  but  I  admit  here,  before  Tiennet,  that  3'ou  do 
not  encourage  me  to  love  you.  I  can't  say  that  that  will 
stop  me ;  at  any  rate,  3'ou  cannot  hinder  me  from  remem- 
bering you,  and  I  shall  value  this  ten-sous  token  in  my 


Tlie  Bagpipers,  93 

ear  above  anj'thing  I  ever  eoveted.  Joseph  is  my  friend, 
and  I  know  he  loves  you  ;  but  the  lad's  affection  is  so 
quiet  he  will  never  think  of  asking  for  his  token  again. 
So,  if  it  is  one  3-ear  or  ten  before  we  meet  again,  you  will 
see  it  just  where  it  is  ;  that  is,  unless  the  ear  is  gone." 

So  saying,  he  took  Brulette's  hand  and  kissed  it,  and 
then  he  set  to  work  to  put  the  bagpipe  together  and  fill  it. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  cried  Brulette.  "I  told  you 
that  I  had  no  heart  to  amuse  myself,  now  that  Joseph  has 
left  his  mother  and  friends  for  such  a  time,  and  as  for 
3'ou,  you  '11  be  in  danger  of  a  fight  if  the  other  pipers 
should  come  this  way  and  find  you  playing." 

"Bah!"  said  Huriel,  "we'll  see  about  that;  don't  be 
troubled  for  me,  —  you  must  dance,  Brulette,  or  I  shall 
think  you  are  really  in  love  with  an  ungrateful  fellow  who 
has  left  3'ou." 

Whether  it  was  that  Brulette  was  too  proud  to  let  him 
think  that,  or  that  the  dancing  mania  was  too  strong  for 
her,  it  is  certain  that  the  bagpipe  was  no  sooner  fitted  and 
filled  and  beginning  to  sound  than  she  held  out  no  longer 
and  let  me  carry  her  off  for  the  first  reel. 

You  would  hardly  believe,  friends,  what  cries  of  satis- 
faction and  delight  filled  the  marketplace  at  the  resound- 
ing noise  of  that  bagpij^e  and  the  return  of  the  muleteer, 
for  ever}^  one  thought  him  gone.  The  dancing  had  flagged 
and  the  company  were  about  to  disperse  when  he  made 
his  appearance  once  more  on  the  piper's  stone.  Instantly 
such  a  hubbub  arose  !  no  longer  four  to  eight  couples  were 
dancing,  but  sixteen  to  thirt^'-two,  joining  hands,  skipping, 
shouting,  laughing,  so  that  the  good  God  himself  could  n't 
have  got  a  word  in  edgewise.  And  presently  every  one 
in  the  market-place,  old  and  young,  children  who  could  n't 
yet  use  their  legs,  grandfathers  tottering  on  theirs,  old 


94  The  Bagpipers. 

women  jigging  in  the  st3de  of  their  youth,  awkward  folk 
who  could  n't  get  the  time  or  the  tune,  —  the}'  all  set  to 
spinning ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  a  wonder  tlie  clock  of  the 
parish  church  did  n't  spin  too.  Fanc}' !  the  finest  music 
ever  heard  in  our  parts  and  costing  nothing !  It  seemed 
as  if  the  devil  had  a  finger  in  it,  for  the  piper  never  asked 
to  rest,  and  tired  out  ever^'bod}'  except  himself.  "I'm 
determined  to  be  the  last,"  he  cried  when  they  advised 
him  to  rest.  "  The  whole  parish  shall  give  in  before  me  ; 
I  intend  to  keep  it  up  till  sunrise,  and  3'ou  shall  all  cr}'  me 
mercy  ! "  So  on  we  went,  he  piping  and  we  twirling  like 
mad. 

Mere  Biaude,  who  kept  the  tavern,  seeing  there  was 
profit  in  it,  brought  out  tables  and  benches  and  something 
to  eat  and  drink  ;  as  to  the  latter  article,  she  could  n't  fur- 
nish enough  for  so  man}'  stomachs  hungry  b}'  dancing,  so 
folks  living  near  brought  out  for  their  friends  and  ac- 
quaintance the  victuals  they  had  laid  in  for  the  week. 
One  brought  cheese,  another  a  bag  of  nuts,  another  the 
quarter  of  a  kid,  or  a  sucking  pig,  all  of  which  were  roasted 
and  broiled  at  a  fire  hastily  built  in  the  market-place.  It 
was  like  a  wedding  to  which  ever}'  one  flocked.  The  chil- 
dren were  not  sent  to  bed,  for  no  one  had  time  to  think  of 
them,  and  they  fell  asleep,  like  a  heap  of  lambs,  on  the 
piles  of  lumber  which  always  lay  about  the  market-place, 
to  the  wild  racket  of  tlie  dance  and  tlie  bagpipe,  which 
never  stopped  except  it  was  to  let  the  piper  drink  a 
jorum  of  the  best  wine. 

The  more  he  drank  the  gayer  he  was  and  the  better  he 
played.  At  last  hunger  seized  the  sturdiest,  and  Huriel 
was  forced  to  stop  for  lack  of  dancers.  So,  having  won 
his  wager  to  bury  us  all,  he  consented  to  go  to  supper. 
Everybody  invited  him  and  quarrelled  for  the  honor  and 


The  Bagpipers.  95 

pleasure  of  feasting  him ;  but  seeing  that  Brulette  was 
coming  to  m}^  table,  he  accepted  my  invitation  and  sat 
down  beside  her,  boiling  over  with  wit  and  good  humor. 
He  ate  fast  and  well,  but  instead  of  getting  torpid  from 
digestion  he  was  the  first  to  clink  his  glass  for  a  song ; 
and  although  he  had  blown  his  pipe  like  a  whirlwind  for 
six  hours  at  a  stretch,  his  voice  was  as  fresh  and  as  true 
as  if  he  had  done  nothing.  The  others  tried  to  hold  their 
own,  but  even  our  renowned  singers  soon  gave  it  up  for 
the  pleasure  of  listening  to  him ;  his  songs  were  far  be- 
yond theirs,  as  much  for  the  tunes  as  the  words ;  indeed, 
we  had  great  difficulty  in  catching  the  chorus,  for  there 
was  nothing  in  his  throat  that  wasn't  new  to  our  ears, 
and  of  a  quality,  I  must  own,  above  our  knowledge. 

People  left  their  tables  to  listen  to  him,  and  just  as  da}^ 
was  beginning  to  dawn  through  the  leaves  a  crowd  of 
people  were  standing  round  him,  more  bewitched  and 
attentive  than  at  the  finest  sermon. 

At  that  moment  he  rose,  jumped  on  his  bench,  and 
waved  his  empt}'  glass  to  the  first  ray  of  sunlight  that 
shone  above  his  head,  saving,  in  a  manner  that  made 
us  all  tremble  without  knowing  why  or  wherefore :  — 

"•Friends,  see  the  torch  of  the  good  God  !  Put  out  your 
little  candles  and  bow  to  the  clearest  and  brightest  light 
that  shines  on  the  world.  And  now,"  he  said,  sitting 
down  again  and  setting  his  glass  bottom  up  on  the  table, 
"  we  have  talked  enough  and  sung  enough  for  one  night. 
What  are  .you  about,  verger?  Go  and  ring  the  Angelus, 
that  we  may  see  who  signs  the  cross  like  a  Christian  ;  and 
that  will  show  which  of  us  have  enjoyed  ourselves  de- 
centh',  and  which  have  degraded  our  pleasure  like  fools. 
After  we  have  rendered  thanks  to  God  I  must  depart,  my 
friends,  thanking  you  for  this  fine  fete  and  all  your  signs 


96  The  Bagpipers. 

of  confidence.  I  owed  yon  a  little  reparation  for  some 
damage  I  did  a  few  of  you  lately  without  intending  it. 
Guess  it  if  you  can,  —  I  did  not  come  here  to  confess  it ; 
but  I  think  I  have  done  my  best  to  amnse  you ;  and  as 
pleasure,  to  my  thinking,  is  worth  more  than  profit,  T  feel 
that  I  am  quits  with  you.  Hush !  "  he  added,  as  they 
began  to  question  him,  "hear  the  Angelus!" 

He  knelt  down,  which  led  everj'  one  to  do  likewise,  and 
do  it,  too,  with  soberness  of  manner,  for  the  man  seemed 
to  have  some  extraordinary  power  over  his  fellows. 

When  the  prayer  ended  we  looked  about  for  him,  but 
he  was  gone,  —  and  so  completely  that  there  were  people 
who  rubbed  their  e3'es,  fanc3'ing  that  they  had  dreamed 
this  night  of  gayety  and  merriment. 


Tlie  Bagpiijers.  97 


NINTH   EVENING. 

Brulette  was  trembling  all  over,  and  when  I  asked 
her  what  the  matter  was  and  what  she  was  thinking  of, 
she  answered,  rubbing  her  cheek  with  the  back  of  her 
hand,  *'  That  man  is  pleasant,  Tiennet,  but  he  is  ver}' 
bold." 

As  I  was  rather  more  heated  than  usual,  I  found  cour- 
age to  say,  — 

"  If  the  lips  of  a  stranger  offend  j'our  skin,  perhaps 
those  of  a  friend  can  remove  the  stain." 

But  she  pushed  me  awa}',  saj'ing,  — 

"  He  has  gone,  and  it  is  wisest  to  forget  those  who  go." 

*'  Even  poor  Jose  ?  " 

"  He  !  oh,  tliat's  different,"  she  answered. 

"  Wli}' different?  You  don't  answer  me.  Oh,  Brulette, 
you  care  for  —  " 

"  For  whom?"  she  said,  quickly.  "  What  is  his  name? 
Out  with  it,  as  3'ou  know  it !  " 

"  It  is,"  I  said,  laughing,  "  the  black  man  for  whose 
sake  Jose  has  given  himself  over  to  the  devil,  —  that 
man  who  frightened  3'ou  one  night  last  spring  when  you 
were  at  my  house." 

"No,  no;  nonsense!  you  are  joking.  Tell  me  his 
name,  his  business,  and  where  he  comes  from." 

"  No,  I  shall  not,  Brulette.  You  say  we  ought  to 
forget  the  absent,  and  I  would  rather  you  did  n't  change 
3'our  mind." 

The  whole  parish  v/as  surprised  when  it  was  known  that 

7 


98  The  Bagpipers. 

the  piper  had  departed  before  the}'  had  thought  of  dis- 
covering who  he  was.  To  be  sure,  a  few  had  questioned 
him,  but  he  gave  them  contradictory  answers.  To  one  he 
said  he  was  a  Marchois  and  was  named  thus  and  so ;  to 
another  he  gave  a  different  name,  and  no  one  could  make 
out  the  truth.  I  gave  them  still  another  name  to  throw 
them  off  the  scent,  —  not  that  Iluriel  the  wheat-spoiler 
need  fear  any  one  after  Huriel  the  piper  had  turned  everj'- 
body's  head,  but  simpl}'  to  amuse  myself  and  to  tease 
Brulette.  Then,  when  I  was  asked  where  I  had  known 
him,  I  answered,  laughing,  that  I  didn't  know  him  at 
all,  —  that  he  had  taken  it  into  his  head  on  arriving  to 
accost  me  as  a  friend,  and  that  I  had  answered  him  in 
kind  by  way  of  a  joke. 

Brulette,  however,  sifted  me  to  the  bottom,  and  I  was 
forced  to  tell  her  what  I  knew ;  and  though  it  was  not 
much,  she  was  sorry  she  had  heard  it,  for  like  most 
country  folks,  she  had  a  great  prejudice  against  strangers, 
and  muleteers  in  particular. 

I  thought  this  repugnance  would  soon  make  her  forget 
Iluriel ;  and  if  she  ever  thought  of  him  she  never  showed 
it,  but  continued  to  lead  the  gay  life  she  liked  so  well,  de- 
claring that  she  meant  to  be  as  faithful  a  wife  as  she  was 
thoughtless  a  girl,  and  therefore  she  should  take  her  time 
and  study  her  suitors ;  and  to  me  she  kept  repeating  that 
she  wanted  my  faithful,  quiet  friendship,  without  any 
thought  of  marriage. 

As  my  nature  never  turned  to  gloominess,  I  made  no 
complaint ;  in  fact,  like  Brulette,  I  had  a  leaning  to 
liberty,  and  I  used  mine  like  other  young  fellows,  taking 
pleasure  where  I  found  it,  without  the  yoke.  But  the  ex- 
citement once  over,  I  always  came  back  to  mj^  beautiful 
cousin   for  gentle,    virtuous,   and    lively   companionship, 


The  Bagpipers,  99 

which  I  could  n't  afford  to  lose  by  sulking.  She  had 
more  sense  and  wit  than  all  the  women  and  girls  of  the 
neighborhood  put  together.  And  her  home  was  so  pleas- 
ant, —  always  neat  and  well-managed,  never  pinched  for 
means,  and  filled,  during  the  winter  evenings  and  on  all 
the  holidays  of  the  3'ear,  with  the  nicest  .young  folks  of  the 
parish.  The  girls  liked  to  follow  in  my  cousin's  train, 
where  there  was  always  a  rush  of  young  fellows  to  choose 
from,  and  where  they  could  pick  up,  now  and  then,  a 
husband  of  their  own.  In  fact,  Brulette  took  advantage 
of  the  respect  they  all  felt  for  her  to  make  the  lads  think 
of  the  lasses  who  wanted  their  attentions  ;  for  she  was 
generous  with  her  lovers,  —  like  people  rich  in  other  ways 
who  know  it  is  their  duty  to  give  awa}'. 

Grandfather  Brulet  loved  his  3'oung  companion,  and 
amused  her  with  his  old-fashioned  songs  and  the  many 
fine  tales  he  told  her.  Sometimes  Mariton  would  drop  in 
for  a  moment  just  to  talk  of  her  boy.  She  was  a  great 
woman  for  gossip,  still  fresh  in  appearance,  and  alwa3'S 
read}^  to  show  the  3'onng  girls  how  to  make  their  clothes, 
—  being  well  dressed  herself  to  please  her  master  Benoit, 
who  thought  her  handsome  face  and  finery  a  good  adver- 
tisement of  his  house. 

It  was  well-nigh  a  3'ear  that  these  amusements  had  been 
going  on  without  other  news  of  Joseph  than  b3'  two 
letters,  in  which  he  told  his  mother  he  was  well  in  health 
and  was  earning  his  living  in  the  Bourbonnais.  He  did 
not  give  the  name  of  the  place,  and  the  two  letters  were 
postmarked  from  different  towns.  Indeed,  the  second 
letter  was  none  so  easy  to  make  out,  though  our  curate 
was  ver3"  clever  at  reading  writing ;  but  it  appeared  that 
Joseph  was  getting  himself  educated,  and  had  tried,  for 
the   first  time,  to  write  himself.     At  last  a  third  letter 


100  The  Bafjjn^yers. 

came,  addressed  to  Brulette,  which  Monsieur  le  cur^  read 
off  quite  flnenth',  declaring  tliat  the  sentences  were  very 
well  turned.  This  letter  stated  that  Joseph  had  been 
ill,  and  a  friend  was  writing  for  him  ;  it  was  nothing 
more  than  a  spring  fever,  and  his  family  were  not  to 
be  uneasy  about  him.  The  letter  went  on  to  sa}"  that  he 
was  living  with  friends  who  were  in  the  habit  of  travelling 
about ;  that  he  was  then  starting  with  them  for  the  district 
of  Chamberat,  from  which  they  would  write  again  if  he 
grew  worse  in  spite  of  the  great  care  they  were  taking  of 
him. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  cried  Brulette,  when  the  curate  had 
read  her  all  that  was  in  the  letter,  "  I'm  afraid  he  is  going 
to  make  himself  a  muleteer.  I  dare  not  tell  his  mother 
about  either  his  illness  or  the  trade  he  is  taking  up.  Poor 
soul !  she  has  troubles  enough  without  that.'* 

Then,  glancing  at  the  letter,  she  asked  what  the  sig- 
nature meant.  Monsieur  le  cure,  who  had  paid  no 
attention  to  it,  put  on  his  glasses  and  soon  began  to 
laugh,  declaring  that  he  had  never  seen  anything  like  it, 
and  all  he  could  make  out,  in  place  of  a  name,  was  the 
sketch  of  an  ear  and  an  earring  with  a  sort  of  a  heart  stuck 
through  it. 

'^  Probably,"  said  he,  "it  is  the  emblem  of  some  fra- 
ternity. All  guilds  have  their  badges,  and  other  people 
can't  understand  them." 

But  Brulette  understood  well  enough  ;  she  seemed  a 
little  worried  and  carried  off  the  letter,  to  examine  it,  I 
don't  doubt,  with  a  less  indifferent  eye  than  she  pretended ; 
for  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  learn  to  read,  and  very 
secretly  she  did  so,  b}'  the  help  of  a  former  lady's- 
maid  in  a  noble  famih',  who  often  came  to  gossip  in  a 
sociable  house  like  mj^  cousin's.     It  did  n't  take  long  for 


-,       ^     »    J 


TJie  Bagpipers.  lOU- 

such  a  clever  head  as  Brulette's  to  learn  all  she  wanted, 
and  one  fine  day  I  was  amazed  to  find  she  could  write 
songs  and  hymns  as  prettily  turned  as  an^'body's.  I 
could  not  help  asking  her  if  she  had  learned  these  fine 
things  above  her  station  so  as  to  correspond  with  Joseph, 
or  the  handsome  muleteer. 

**  As  if  I  cared  for  a  common  fellow  with  earrings  !  " 
she  cried,  laughing.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  such  an  ill- 
behaved  girl  as  to  write  to  a  perfect  stranger?  But  if 
Joseph  comes  back  educated  he  will  have  done  a  very 
good  thing  to  get  rid  of  his  stupidity ;  and  as  for  me,  I 
shall  not  be  sorry  to  be  a  little  less  of  a  goose  than  I 
was.'* 

"  Brulette,  Brulette  !  "  I  retorted,  "  3-ou  are  setting 
your  thoughts  outside  j^our  own  country  and  j'our  friends. 
Take  care,  harm  will  come  of  it !  I  'ra  not  a  bit  less 
uneasy  about  you  here  than  I  am  about  Joseph  down 
there." 

"  You  can  be  easy  about  me,  Tiennet ;  my  head  is  cool, 
no  matter  what  people  say  of  me.  As  for  our  poor  boy, 
I  am  troubled  enough ;  it  will  soon  be  six  months  since 
we  heard  from  him,  and  that  fine  muleteer  who  promised 
to  send  us  news  has  never  once  thought  of  it.  Mariton  is 
miserable  at  Joseph's  neglect  of  her ;  for  she  has  never 
known  of  his  illness,  and  perhaps  he  is  dead  without  our 
suspecting  it." 

I  assured  her  that  in  that  case  we  should  certainly  have 
been  informed  of  the  fact,  and  that  no  news  was  alwaj's 
good  news  in  such  cases. 

"  You ma}^  say  what  }ou  like,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  dreamed, 
two  nights  ago,  that  the  muleteer  arrived  here,  bringing 
his  bagpipe  and  the  news  that  Jose  was  dead.  Ever 
since  I  dreamed  that  I  have  been  sad  at  heart,  and  I  am 


102  The  Baginioers. 

sorry  I  have  let  so  much  time  go  by  without  thinking 
of  the  poor  lad  or  trying  to  write  to  him.  But  how 
could  I  have  sent  my  letter  ?  —  for  I  don't  even  know 
where  he  is." 

So  sa3'ing,  Brulette,  who  was  sitting  near  a  window 
and  chanced  to  look  out,  gave  a  loud  cr}^  and  turned  white 
with  fear.  I  looked  out  too,  and  saw  Huriel,  black  with 
charcoal  dust  on  his  face  and  clothes,  just  as  I  saw  him 
the  first  time.  He  came  towards  us,  while  the  children 
ran  out  of  his  way,  screaming,  "The  devil!  the  devil!" 
and  the  dogs  ^^elped  at  him. 

Struck  with  what  Brulette  had  just  said,  and  wishing  to 
spare  her  the  pain  of  hearing  ill-news  suddenly,  I  ran  to 
meet  the  muleteer,  and  my  first  words  were,  — 

"  Is  he  dead?" 

"Who?  Joseph?"  he  replied.  "No,  thank  God. 
But  how  did  you  know  he  was  still  ill  ?  " 

"  Is  he  in  danger?  " 

"  Yes  and  no.  But  what  I  have  to  say  is  for  Brulette. 
Is  that  her  house  ?     Take  me  to  her." 

"Yes,  yes,  come!"  I  cried;  and  rushing  ahead  I 
told  m}^  cousin  to  be  comforted,  for  tbe  news  was  not 
nearly  so  bad  as  she  expected. 

She  called  her  grandfather,  who  was  at  work  in  the 
next  room,  intending  to  receive  the  muleteer  in  a  proper 
manner  ;  but  when  she  saw  him  so  different  from  the  idea 
she  had  kept  of  him,  so  unrecognizable  in  face  and 
clothes,  she  lost  her  self-possession  and  turned  away 
sadly  and  in  much  confusion. 

Huriel  perceived  it,  for  he  smiled,  and  lifting  his  black 
hair  as  if  by  accident,  showed  Brulette  her  token  which 
was  still  in  his  ear. 

"It  is  really  I,"  he  said,  "  and  no  one  else.     I  have 


The  Bagpipers.  103 

come  from  my  own  parts  expressly  to  tell  you  about  a 
friend  who,  thanks  to  God,  is  neither  dead  nor  dying,  but 
of  whom  I  must  speak  to  you  at  some  length.  Have  you 
leisure  to  hear  me  now?  " 

*'That  we  have,"  said  Pere  Brulet.  "Sit  down,  m}^ 
man,  and  take  something  to  eat." 

"  I  want  nothing,"  said  Huriel,  seating  himself.  *''  I  will 
wait  till  your  own  meal-time.  But,  first  of  all,  I  ought  to 
make  myself  known  to  those  I  am  now  speaking  to." 


104  The  Bagpipers, 


TENTH   EVENING. 

"  Say  on,"  said  my  uncle,  '•  we  are  listening." 

Then  said  the  muleteer:  "My  name  is  Jean  Huriel, 
muleteer  b}'  trade,  son  of  Sebastien  Huriel,  otherwise 
called  Bastien,  the  Head-AVoodsman,  a  renowned  bag- 
piper, and  considered  the  best  worker  in  the  forests  of 
the  Bourbonnais.  Those  are  my  names  and  claims,  to 
which  I  can  bring  honorable  proof.  I  know  that  to  win 
3'our  confidence  I  ought  to  present  myself  in  the  guise  in 
which  I  have  the  right  to  appear ;  but  men  of  my  caUing 
have  a  custom  —  " 

"  I  know  3^our  custom,  m}^  lad,"  said  Pere  Brulet,  who 
watched  him  attentivel}''.  "  It  is  good  or  bad,  accord hig  as 
3'ou  yourselves  are  good  or  bad.  I  have  not  lived  till 
now  without  knowing  what  the  muleteers  are ;  I  have 
travelled  outside  our  own  borders,  and  I  know  your  cus- 
toms and  behavior.  They  say  your  fraternity  are  given 
to  evil  deeds, — they  are  known  to  abduct  girls,  attack 
Christian  people,  and  even  kill  them  in  pretended  quarrels 
so  as  to  get  their  mone3\" 

"  Well,"  said  Huriel,  laughing,  "  I  think  that  is  an 
exaggerated  account  of  us.  The  things  you  speak  of  are 
long  passed  away  ;  you  would  not  hear  of  such  deeds  now- 
a-days.  But  the  fear  3'our  people  had  of  us  was  so  great 
that  for  years  the  muleteers  did  not  dare  to  leave  the 
woods  unless  in  troops  and  with  great  precautions.  The 
proof  that  the3'  have  mended  their  ways  and  are  no  longer 
to  be  feared  is  that  the\'  no  longer  fear  for  themselves ; 
so  here  I  am,  alone  in  the  midst  of  you." 


The  Bagpipers.  105 


(( 


Yes,"  said  Pere  Brulet,  who  was  not  easy  to  con- 
vince;  "but  your  face  is  blackened  all  the  same.  You 
have  sworn  to  follow  the  rule  of  3'our  fraternit}',  which  is 
to  travel  thus  disguised  through  the  districts  where  you 
are  still  distrusted,  so  that  if  folks  see  3'ou  do  an  evil 
deed  thej^  can't  say  afterwards,  when  they  meet  3'our  com- 
panions, '  That  is  he,'  or,  '  That  is  not  he.'  You  consider 
yourselves  all  responsible  for  one  another.  This  has  its 
good  side,  for  it  makes  3'ou  faithful  friends,  and  each 
man  has  the  help  and  good-will  of  all ;  but,  nevertheless, 
it  leaves  the  rest  of  us  in  doubt  as  to  the  character  of 
3^our  moralit3^  and  I  shall  not  deny  that  if  a  muleteer  — 
no  matter  how  good  a  fellow  he  may  be  nor  how  much 
mone3'  he  may  have  —  comes  here  to  ask  for  m3"  alliance, 
I  '11  cheerfull3'  offer  him  bite  and  sup,  but  I  '11  not  invite 
him  to  marr3'  ni}^  daughter." 

"And  I,"  said  the  muleteer,  his  e3'es  flashing  as  he 
boldl3"  looked  at  Brulette,  who  pretended  to  be  thinking 
of  something  else,  "  had  no  such  idea  in  coming  here. 
You  are  not  called  upon  to  refuse  me,  Pere  Brulet,  for 
you  don't  know  whether  I  am  married  or  single.  I  have 
said  nothing  about  it." 

Brulette  dropped  her  eyes,  and  I  could  not  tell  whether 
she  was  pleased  or  displeased.  Then  she  recovered  spirit, 
and  said  to  the  muleteer:  "  This  has  nothins;  to  do  with 
the  matter  —  which  is  Jose.  You  have  brou2:ht  news  of 
him ;  I  am  distressed  at  heart  about  his  health.  This  is 
m}'  grandfather,  who  brought  him  up  and  takes  an  interest 
in  him.     Please  talk  of  Joseph  instead  of  other  things." 

Huriel  looked  steadil3"  at  Brulette,  seeming  to  struggle 
with  a  momentary  vexation  and  to  gather  himself  together 
before  he  spoke  ;  then  he  said  :  — 

"  Joseph  is  ill,  —  so  ill  that  I  resolved  to  come  and  say 


106  The  Bagpipers. 

to  the  woman  who  is  the  cause  of  it,  '  Do  you  wish  to 
cure  him,  and  are  you  able  to  do  so?'" 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?"  said  my  uncle,  prick- 
ing up  his  ears,  which  were  beginning  to  be  a  little  hard 
of  hearing.     ' '  How  can  my  daughter  cure  the  lad  ?  " 

"  If  I  spoke  of  myself  before  I  spoke  of  him,"  continued 
Huriel,  "  it  was  because  I  have  delicate  things  to  sa}'  of 
him  which  3'ou  would  scarcely  allow  a  total  stranger  to 
mention.  Now,  if  you  think  me  a  decent  man,  allow  me 
to  speak  my  mind  freely  and  tell  3^ou  all  I  know." 

^'  Explain  everything,"  said  Brulette,  eagerly.  "  Don't 
be  afraid ;  I  shall  not  care  for  an  v  idea  people  take  of 
me." 

"  I  have  none  but  good  ideas  of  you,  Brulette,"  replied 
the  muleteer.  "  It  is  not  your  fault  if  Joseph  loves  you  ; 
and  if  you  return  his  love  in  your  secret  heart  no  one  can 
blame  3'ou.  We  may  envy  Joseph  in  that  case,  but  not 
betray  him  or  do  anything  to  trouble  you.  Let  me  tell 
3'ou  how  things  have  gone  between  him  and  me  since  the 
day  we  first  made  friends,  when  I  persuaded  him  to  come 
over  to  our  parts  and  learn  the  music  he  was  so  crazy 
about." 

"  I  don't  think  you  did  him  much  good  by  that  advice," 
observed  my  uncle.  "It  is  my  opinion  he  could  have 
learned  it  just  as  well  here,  without  grieving  and  distress- 
ing his  famil}'." 

"  He  told  me,"  replied  Huriel,  "  and  I  have  since  found 
it  true,  that  the  other  bagpipers  woukl  not  allow  it.  Be- 
sides, I  owed  him  the  truth,  because  he  trusted  me  at  first 
sight.  Music  is  a  wild  flower  which  does  not  bloom  in 
your  parts.  It  loves  our  heather ;  but  I  can't  tell  you 
why.  In  our  woods  and  dells  it  lives  and  thrives  and 
lives  again,  like  the  flowers  of  spring ;  there  it  sows  and 


The  Bagpipers,  107 

harvests  ideas  for  lands  that  are  barren  of  them.     The 
best  thmgs  your  pipers  give  you  come  from  there  ;  but  as 
your  players  are  lazy  and  niggardly,  and  you  are  satisfied 
to  hear  the  same  things  over  and  over  again,  they  only 
come  to  us  once  in  their  lives,  and  live  on  what  the}^ 
learn  then  for  the  rest  of  their  days.     At  this  very  time 
they  are  teaching  pupils  to  strum  a  corruption  of  our  old 
music,  and  they  never  think  of  consulting  at  the  fountain- 
head  to  find  how  such  airs  should  be  played.     So  when  a 
well-intentioned  3'oung  fellow  like  your  Jose  (as  I  said  to 
him)  comes  to  drink  at  the  spring,  he  is  sure  to  return  so 
fresh  and  full  that  the  other  players  could  not  stand  up 
against  him.     That  is  why  Jose  agreed  to  go  over  into 
the  Bourbonnais  the  following  midsummer,  where  he  could 
have  enough  work  in  the  woods  to  support  him,  and  les- 
sons from  our  best  master.     I  must  tell  yo\i  that  the  finest 
bagpipers  are  in   Upper  Bourbonnais,    among   the    pine 
forests,  over  where  the  Sioule  comes  down  from  the  Dome 
mountains ;    and  that  my  father,  born  in  the  village   of 
Huriel,  from  which  he  takes  his  name,  has  spent  his  life 
among  these  players,  and  keeps  his  wind  in  good  order 
and  his  art  well-trained.     He  is  a  man  who  does  not  like 
to  work  two  3'ears  running  in  the  same  place,  and  the 
older  he  gets  the  livelier  and  more  fond  of  change  he  is. 
Last  year  he  was  in  the  forest  of  Trongay ;  since  then  he 
has  been  in  that  of  Espinasse.     Just  now  he  is  in  the 
woods  of  Alien,  where  Joseph  has  followed  him  faithfully, 
chopping  and  felling  and  bagpiping  by  his  side,  —  for  he 
loves  him  like  a  son  and  boasts  that  the  love  is  returned. 
The  lad  has  been  as  happy  as  a  lover  can  be  when  parted 
from  his  mistress.     But  hfe  is  not  as  easy  and  comfort- 
able with  us  as  with  you  ;  and  though  my  father,  taught 
by   experience,   tried  to  prevent  Joseph  (who  was  in  a 


108  TJie  Bagpipers, 

hurry  to  succeed)  from  straining  his  kings  on  our  pipes,  — 
which  are,  as  3'ou  may  have  noticed,  differently  made 
from  3^ours,  and  very  fatiguing  to  the  chest  until  you  know 
how  to  use  them, — the  poor  fellow  took  a  fever  and 
began  to  spit  blood.  My  father,  who  understood  the 
disease  and  knew  how  to  manage  it.  took  away  his  bag- 
pipe and  ordered  him  to  rest ;  but  then,  though  his  bodily 
health  improved,  he  took  sick  in  another  way.  He  ceased 
to  cough  and  spit  blood,  but  he  fell  into  a  state  of  de- 
pression and  weakness  which  made  them  fear  for  his  life. 
So  that  when  I  got  home  from  a  trip  eight  days  ago  I 
found  him  so  pallid  that  I  scarcely  knew  him,  and  so  weak 
on  his  legs  that  he  could  not  stand.  When  1  questioned 
him  he  burst  into  tears  and  said,  very  sadly:  '  Huriel,  I 
know  I  shall  die  in  the  depths  of  these  woods,  far  from 
m}^  own  country,  from  my  mother  and  my  friends,  unloved 
by  her  to  whom  I  long  to  show  the  art  I  have  learned. 
This  dreadful  dulness  eats  into  my  mind,  impatience 
withers  my  heart.  I  wish  your  father  would  give  me 
back  my  bagpipe  and  let  me  die  of  it.  I  could  draw  my 
last  breath  in  sending  from  afar  to  her  I  love  the  sweetness 
m}'  lips  can  never  utter  to  her,  dreaming  for  a  moment  that 
I  was  at  her  side.  No  doubt  Pere  Bastien  meant  kindlj^ ; 
I  know  I  was  killing  myself  with  eagerness.  But  what 
do  I  gain  b}'  dying  more  slowly?  I  must  renounce  life  any 
way.  On  the  one  hand,  I  can't  chop  wood  and  earn  my 
bread,  and  must  live  at  3'our  expense  ;  on  the  other,  my 
chest  is  too  weak  to  pipe.  No,  it  is  all  over  with  me.  I 
shall  never  be  anything ;  I  must  die  without  the  J03'  of 
remembering  a  single  day  of  love  and  happiness.'  " 

''  Don't  cry,  Brulette,"  continued  the  muleteer,  taking 
the  hand  with  which  she  wiped  her  tears  ;  "all  is  not  hope- 
less.     Listen    to  me.      Seeing  the  poor  lad's    misery,    I 


The  Bagpipers,  109 

went  after  a  good  doctor,  who  examined  him,  and  then  told 
us  that  it  was  more  depression  than  ilhiess,  and  he  wouki 
answer  for  his  cure  if  Joseph  would  give  up  music  and 
wood-cutting  for  another  month.  As  to  that  last  matter, 
it  was  quite  convenient,  for  my  father,  and  I  too,  thank 
God,  are  not  badl}'  off,  and  it  is  no  great  merit  to  us  to 
take  care  of  a  friend  who  can't  work.  Bat  the  doctor  was 
wrong ;  the  same  causes  remain,  and  Jose  is  no  better. 
He  did  not  want  me  to  let  you  know  his  state,  but  I  made 
him  agree  to  it  and  I  even  tried  to  bring  him  here  with  me. 
I  put  him  carefully  on  one  of  my  mules,  but  at  the  end  of 
a  few  miles  he  became  so  weak  I  was  obliged  to  take  him 
back  to  my  father,  who  thereupon  said  to  me :  '  Do  you 
go  to  the  lad's  people  and  bring  back  either  his  mother  or 
his  sweetheart.  He  is  homesick,  that 's  all,  and  if  he  sees 
one  or  the  other  of  them  he  will  recover  health  and  courage 
enough  to  finish  his  apprenticeship  here ;  or  else  he  must 
go  home  with  them.'  That  being  said  before  Joseph,  he 
was  much  excited.  '  My  mother  ! '  he  cried,  like  a  child  ; 
*"  m3'  poor  mother,  make  her  come  quickly  ! '  Then  check- 
ing himself,  he  added,  '  No,  no  ;  1  don't  want  her  to  see  me 
die  ;  her  grief  would  kill  me  all  the  faster.'  '  How  about 
Brulette?  '  I  whispered  to  him.  '  Oh  !  Brulette  would  not 
come,'  he  answered.  '  Brulette  is  good  ;  but  she  must  have 
chosen  a  lover  b}'  this  time  who  would  not  let  her  come 
and  comfort  me.'  Then  I  made  Jose  swear  he  would  have 
patience  till  I  returned,  and  I  came  off.  Pere  Brulet,  de- 
cide what  ought  to  be  done ;  and  you,  Brulette,  consult 
your  heart." 

*'  Maitre  Huriel,"  said  Brulette,  rising,  "  I  will  go,  though 
I  am  not  Joseph's  sweetheart,  as  you  called  me,  and 
nothmg  obliges  me  to  go  to  him  except  that  his  mother 
fed  me  with  her  milk  and  carried  me  in  her  arms.     Whv 


110  The  Bagpijjers. 

do  you  think  the  yming  man  is  in  love  with  me?  Just  as 
true  as  that  my  grandfather  is  sitting  there,  he  never  said 
the  first  word  of  it  to  me." 

"Then  he  did  tell  me  truth!"  cried  Huriel,  as  if  de- 
lighted with  what  he  heard ;  but  catching  himself  hastily 
up,  he  added,  "It  is  none  the  less  true  that  he  may 
die  of  it,  and  all  the  more  because  he  has  no  hope  ;  I  must 
therefore  plead  his  cause  and  explain  his  feelings." 

"Are  you  deputed  to  do  so?"  asked  Brulette,  haugh- 
tily and  as  if  anno3'ed  with  the  muleteer. 

"  Deputed  or  not,  I  must  do  it,"  said  Huriel ;  "I  must 
clear  my  conscience  of  it,  —  for  his  sake  who  told  me  his 
troubles  and  asked  my  help.  This  is  what  he  said  to  me  : 
^  I  always  longed  to  give  m3'self  up  to  music,  as  much 
because  I  loved  it  as  for  love  of  my  dear  Brulette.  She 
considers  me  as  a  brother;  she  has  always  shown  me  the 
greatest  kindness  and  true  pit}' ;  but  for  all  that  she  re- 
ceived everj^iody's  attentions  except  mine,  and  I  can't 
blame  her.  The  girl  loves  finery  and  all  that  sets  her  oflT, 
She  has  a  right  to  be  coquettish  and  exacting.  M3'  heart 
aches  for  it,  but  if  she  gives  her  aflTections  to  those  who 
are  worth  more  than  I  the  fault  is  mine  for  being  worth  so 
little.  Such  as  I  am  —  unable  to  dig  hard,  or  speak  soft, 
or  dance,  or  jest,  or  even  sing,  feeling  ashamed  of  myself 
and  m}^  condition,  I  deserve  that  she  should  think  me  the 
lowest  of  those  who  aspire  to  her  hand.  Well,  don't  3'ou 
see  that  this  grief  will  kill  me  if  it  lasts?  and  I  want  to  find 
a  cure  for  it.  I  feel  within  me  something  which  declares 
that  I  can  make  better  music  than  any  one  else  in  our 
parts ;  if  I  could  only  succeed  I  should  be  no  longer  a 
mere  nothing.  I  should  become  even  more  than  others ; 
and  as  that  girl  has  much  taste  and  a  gift  for  singing,  she 
would  understand,  out  of  her  own  self,  what  I  was  worth; 


The  Bagpipers.  Ill 

moreover,  her  pride  would  be  flattered  at  the  praises  I 
should  receive.' " 

*' You  speak,"  said  Brulette,  smiling,  "  as  if  I  had  an 
understanding  with  him  ;  whereas  he  has  never  said  a  word 
of  all  this  to  me.  His  pride  has  always  been  up  in  arms, 
and  I  see  that  it  is  through  pride  that  he  expects  to  influ- 
ence me.  However,  as  his  illness  puts  him  really  in  dan- 
ger of  dying,  I  will,  in  order  to  give  him  courage,  do 
everything  that  belongs  to  the  sort  of  friendship  I  feel  for 
him.  I  will  go  to  see  him  with  Mariton,  provided  my 
grandfather  advises  and  is  willing  I  should  do  so." 

*'  I  don't  think  it  possible  that  Mariton  can  go  with  3'ou," 
saidPere  Brulet,  "  for  reasons  which  I  know  and  you  will 
soon  know,  m}'  daughter.  I  can  only  tell  you  just  now 
that  she  cannot  leave  her  master,  because  of  some  trouble 
in  his  aS'airs.  Besides,  if  Joseph's  illness  can  reall}^  be 
cured  it  is  better  not  to  worrj-  and  upset  the  poor  woman. 
I  will  go  with  3'ou,  because  I  have  great  confidence  that 
you,  who  have  always  managed  Joseph  for  the  best,  will 
have  influence  enough  over  his  mind  to  bring  him  back 
to  reason  and  give  him  courage.  I  know  what  you  think 
of  him,  and  it  is  what  I  think  too ;  well,  if  we  find  him 
in  a  desperate  condition  we  can  write  to  his  mother  at 
once  to  come  and  close  his  eyes.'* 

"If  you  will  allow  me  in  your  company,"  said  Huriel. 
"  I  will  guide  3'Ou  as  the  swallow  flies  to  where  Joseph  is. 
I  can  even  take  you  in  a  single  day  if  3'ou  are  not  afraid 
of  bad  roads." 

"  We  will  talk  about  that  at  table,"  replied  my  uncle. 
"  As  for  your  company,  I  wish  for  it  and  claim  it ;  for  you 
have  spoken  well,  and  I  know  something  of  the  family  of 
honest  folks  to  whom  3'ou  belong." 

"Do  3'ou  know  my  father?"  cried  Huriel.     "  When  he 


112  The  Bagpipers. 

heard  ns  speaking  of  Brulette  he  told  us,  Joseph  and  me, 
that  his  father  had  had  an  earlj'  friend  named  Brulet." 

"  It  was  I,  myself,"  said  m}'  uncle.  "  I  cut  wood  for  a 
long  time,  thirty  jears  ago,  in  the  Saint- Amand  region 
with  your  grandfather,  and  I  knew  3'our  father  when  a 
boy ;  he  worked  with  us  and  pla3^ed  the  bagpipes  wonder- 
fully well,  even  then.  He  was  a  fine  lad,  and  years  can't 
trouble  him  much  j'et.  When  you  named  yourself  just 
now  I  did  not  wish  to  interrupt  you,  and  if  I  twitted  you 
a  little  about  3^our  customs,  it  was  only  to  draw  3'ou  out. 
Now,  sit  down,  and  don't  spare  the  food  at  3'our 
service. 

During  supper  Huriel  showed  as  much  good  sense  in 
his  talk  and  pleasantness  in  his  gravity  as  he  had  wit  and 
liveliness  on  the  night  of  his  first  appearance  at  midsummer. 
Brulette  listened  attentivelj'  and  seemed  to  get  accustomed 
to  his  blackened  face  ;  but  when  the  journey  was  talked  of 
and  the  method  of  making  it  was  mentioned,  she  grew  un- 
easy about  her  grandfather,  fearing  the  fatigue  and  the 
upsetting  of  his  habits  ;  so,  as  Huriel  could  not  deny  that 
the  journey  would  be  painful  to  a  man  of  his  3'ears,  I 
ofl'ered  to  accompany  Brulette  in  place  of  my  uncle. 

"That's  the  ver}^  thing,"  said  Huriel.  "If  we  are 
only  three  we  can  take  the  cross-cut,  and  by  starting  to- 
morrow morning  we  can  get  there  to-morrow  night.  I 
have  a  sister,  a  verj"  steady,  good  girl,  who  will  take 
Brulette  into  her  own  hut ;  for  I  must  not  conceal  from 
you  that  where  we  are  now  living  3'ou  will  find  neither 
houses  nor  places  to  sleep  in  such  as  3'ou  are  accus- 
tomed to  here." 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  my  uncle,  "  that  I  am  too  old  to 
sleep  on  the  heather ;  and  thougli  I  am  not  very  indulgent 
to  my  body,  if  I  happened  to  fall  ill  over  there,  I  should 


The  Bagpipers.  US 

be  a  great  trouble  to  jou,  my  dear  children.  So,  if  Tiennet 
will  go,  I  know  him  well  enough  to  trust  his  cousin  to  him. 
I  shall  rely  on  his  not  leaving  her  a  foot's  length  in  any 
circumstances  where  there  may  be  danger  for  a  youns: 
girl ;  and  I  rely  on  j'ou,  too,  Huriel,  not  to  expose  her  to  any 
risks  on  the  way." 

I  was  mightil}'  pleased  with  this  plan,  which  gave  me 
the  pleasure  of  escorting  Brulette  and  the  honor  of  de- 
fending her  in  case  of  need.  We  parted  earlj'  and  met 
again  before  daylight  at  the  door  of  the  house,  —  Brulette 
all  ready  and  holding  a  little  bundle  in  her  hand,  Huriel 
leading  his  dairin  and  three  mules,  one  of  which  was 
saddled  with  a  ver}'  soft,  clean  pad,  on  which  he  seated 
Brulette.  Then  he  himself  mounted  the  horse  and  I  an- 
other mule,  which  seemed  much  surprised  to  find  me  on  his 
back.  The  other,  laden  with  new  hampers,  followed  of  her 
own  accord,  while  Satan  brought  up  the  rear.  Nobody 
was  3'et  afoot  in  the  village  ;  for  wdiich  I  was  sorry,  for  I 
would  have  liked  to  make  Brulette's  other  lovers  jealous  in 
return  for  the  rage  they  had  often  put  me  in.  But 
Huriel  seemed  anxious  to  get  away  without  being  noticed 
and  criticised  under  Brulette's  nose  for  his  blackened 
face. 

We  had  not  gone  far  before  he  made  me  feel  that  I 
should  not  be  allowed  to  manage  everything  as  I  liked. 
We  reached  the  woods  of  Maritet  at  noon,  which  was 
nearl}'  half-wa3\  There  was  a  little  inclosure  near  by 
called  "  La  Ronde,"  where  I  should  have  liked  to  go  and 
get  a  good  breakfast.  But  Huriel  laughed  at  what  he  called 
my  love  for  a  knife  and  fork,  and  as  Brulette,  who  was  de- 
termined to  think  ever^'thing  amusing,  agreed  with  him,  he 
made  us  dismount  in  a  narrow  ravine,  through  which  ran 
a  tiny  river  called  "  La  Portefeuille,"  —  so-called  because 


114  The  Bagpipers. 

(at  that  season  at  least)  the  water  was  covered  with  the 
green  tra3's  of  the  water-lily  and  shaded  with  the  leafage 
of  the  woods  which  came  to  the  ver}-  banks  of  the  river 
on  either  side.  Huriel  let  tlie  animals  loose  among  the 
reeds,  selected  a  prett}'  spot  covered  with  wild  flowers, 
opened  the  hampers,  uncorked  the  flask,  and  served  as 
good  a  lunch  as  we  could  have  had  at  home,  —  all  so  neatly 
done  and  with  such  consideration  for  Brulette  that  she 
could  not  help  showing  pleasure.  When  she  saw  that 
before  touching  the  bread  to  cut  it,  and  before  removing 
the  white  napkin  which  wrapped  the  provisions,  he  care- 
fully washed  his  hands,  plunging  his  arms  above  the 
elbows  in  the  river,  she  smiled  and  said  to  him,  with  her 
gracious  little  air  of  command  :  ''  While  3'ou  are  about  it, 
could  not  you  also  wash  3'our  face,  so  that  we  might  see  if 
3'ou  were  really  the  handsome  bagpiper  of  the  midsummer 
dance?" 

*'  No,  m}'  prett}^  one,"  he  replied,  "  you  must  get  used 
to  the  reverse  of  the  coin.  I  make  no  claims  upon  your 
heart  but  those  of  friendship  and  esteem,  though  I  am 
onl}^  a  heathen  of  a  muleteer.  Consequently  I  need  not 
try  to  please  3'ou  b3'^  my  face,  and  it  will  not  be  for  3'our 
sake  that  I  wash  it." 

She  was  mortified,  but  she  would  not  give  up  the  point. 

"You  ought  not  to  frighten  3'our  friends,"  she  said; 
"  and  the  fear  of  3'Ou,  looking  as  3^ou  now  do,  takes  awa}' 
my  appetite." 

"  In  that  case  I  '11  go  and  eat  apart,  so  as  not  to  upset 
you." 

He  did  as  he  said,  and  sat  down  upon  a  little  rock 
which  jutted  into  the  water  behind  the  place  where  we 
were  sitting,  and  ate  his  food  alone,  while  I  enjoj'ed  the 
pleasure  of  serving  Brulette. 


The  Bagpipers.  115 

At  first  she  laughed,  thinking  she  had  provoked  him,  and 
taking  pleasure  in  it,  like  all  coquettes  ;  but  when  she  got 
tired  of  the  game  and  wanted  to  recall  him,  and  did  her 
best  to  excite  him  b}^  words,  he  held  firm,  and  every  time 
she  turned  her  head  toward  him  he  turned  his  back  on 
her,  while  answering  all  her  nonsense  ver\^  cleverly  and 
witliout  the  least  vexation,  which,  to  her,  was  perhaps 
the  very  worst  of  the  thing.  80  presently  she  began  to 
feel  sorry,  and,  after  a  rather  sharp  speech  which  he 
launched  about  haught}''  minxes,  and  which  she  fancied 
was  meant  for  her,  two  tears  rolled  from  her  eyes  though 
she  tried  hard  to  keep  them  back  in  m}'  presence.  Huriel 
did  not  see  them,  and  I  took  very  good  care  not  to  show 
her  that  I  did. 

When  we  had  eaten  all  we  wanted,  Huriel  packed  up 
the  remainder  of  the  provisions,  saying,  — 

"  If  you  are  tired,  children,  you  can  take  a  nap,  for  tho 
animals  want  a  rest  in  the  heat  of  the  day ;  that 's  the 
time  when  the  flies  torment  them,  and  in  this  copse  they 
can  rub  and  shake  themselves  as  much  as  they  please. 
Tiennet,  I  rel}'  on  3^ou  to  keep  good  guard  over  our  prin- 
cess. As  for  me,  I  am  going  a  little  way  into  the  forest, 
to  see  how  the  works  of  God  are  going  on." 

Then  with  a  light  step,  and  no  more  heed  to  the  heat 
than  if  we  were  in  the  month  of  April,  instead  of  the 
middle  of  Julj^,  he  sprang  up  the  slope,  and  was  lost  *;o 
sight  among  the  tall  trees. 


116  The  Bagpipers. 


ELEVENTH   EVENING. 

Brulette  did  her  best  not  to  let  me  see  the  anno3'ance 
she  felt  at  his  departure  ;  but  having  no  heart  for  talk, 
she  pretended  to  go  to  sleep  on  the  fine  sand  of  the  river- 
bank,  her  head  upon  the  panniers  which  were  taken  from 
the  mule  to  rest  him,  and  her  face  protected  from  the  flies 
by  a  white  handkerchief.  I  don't  know  whether  she  slept ; 
I  spoke  to  her  two  or  three  times  without  getting  any 
answer,  and  as  she  had  let  me  lay  m}^  cheek  on  a  corner 
of  her  apron,  I  kept  quiet  too,  but  without  sleeping  at  first, 
for  I  felt  a  little  agitated  b}'  her  close  neighborhood. 

However,  weariness  soon  overtook  me,  and  I  lost  con- 
sciousness for  a  short  time  ;  when  I  woke  I  heard  voices, 
and  found  that  the  muleteer  had  returned  and  was  talk- 
ing witli  Brulette.  I  did  not  dare  move  the  apron  that 
I  might  hear  more  distinctl}^  but  I  held  it  tightly  in  my 
fingers  so  that  the  girl  could  not  have  got  away  even  had 
she  wished  to. 

"I  certainl}' have  the  right,"  Huriel  was  saying,  *' to 
ask  3'ou  what  course  you  mean  to  pursue  with  that  poor 
lad.  I  am  his  friend  more  than  I  can  claim  to  be  3'ours, 
and  1  should  blame  m3^self  for  bringing  3'ou,  if3'ou  mean 
to  deceive  him." 

"  Who  talks  of  deceiving  him?"  cried  Brulette.  "Why 
do  3'ou  criticise  m3'  intentions  without  knowing  them  ?  " 

"I  don't  criticise,  Brulette;  I  question  you  because 
I  like  Joseph  \Qxy  much,  and  I  esteem  3'ou  enough  to 
believe  3'ou  will  deal  frankly  with  him." 


The  Bagpipers.  117 

"That  is  m}'  affair,  Maitre  Huriel ;  3'ou  arc  not  the 
Judge  of  my  feelings,  and  I  am  not  obliged  to  explain 
them.  I  don't  ask  you,  for  instance,  if  you  are  faithful 
to  3'our  wife." 

"  My  wife  !  "  exclaimed  Huriel,  as  if  astonished. 

"  Why, yes,"  returned  Brule tte,  "  are  not  3'ou  married?" 

"Did  I  say  I  was?" 

"  I  thought  you  said  so  at  our  house  last  night,  when 
m}'  grandfather,  thinking  3'OU  came  to  talk  of  marriage, 
made  haste  to  refuse  you." 

"I  said  nothing  at  all,  Brulette,  except  that  I  was  not 
seeking  marriage.  Before  obtaining  the  person,  one  must 
win  the  heart,  and  I  have  no  claim  to  j'ours." 

"At  any  rate,"  said  Brulette,  "I  see  you  are  more 
reasonable  and  less  bold  than  you  were  last  year." 

"  Oh  !  "  returned  Huriel,  "  If  I  said  a  few  rather  warm 
words  to  you  at  the  village  dance,  it  was  because  they 
popped  into  mv  head  at  the  sight  of  you ;  but  time  has 
passed,  and  you  ought  to  forget  the  affront." 

"Who  said  I  recollected  it?"  demanded  Brulette. 
"Have  I  reproached  30U?" 

"  You  blame  me  in  your  heart ;  or  at  any  rate  you  bear 
the  thing  in  mind,  for  you  are  not  willing  to  speak  frankl}* 
to  me  about  Joseph." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Brulette,  whose  voice  showed  signs 
of  impatience,  "that  I  had  fulh'  explained  m^'self  on  t\ii\f- 
point  night  before  last.  But  how  do  the  two  things  affect 
each  other?  The  more  I  forget  you,  the  less  I  should 
wish  to  explain  to  3'ou  my  feelings  for  any  man,  no 
matter  who." 

"  But  the  fact  is,  pretty  one,"  said  the  muleteer,  who 
seemed  not  to  give  in  to  any  of  Brulette's  little  ways, 
**  You  spoke  about  the  past  last  night,  and  said  nothing 


118  The  Bagpipers. 

about  the  future  ;  and  I  don't  3'et  know  what  you  mean 
to  sa}'  to  Joseph  to  reconcile  him  with  life.  Why  do  3'ou 
object  to  tell  me  frankly  ?  " 

''  What  is  it  to  you,  I  should  like  to  know?  If  you  are 
married,  or  mereh'  pledged,  you  ought  not  to  be  looking 
into  a  girl's  heart." 

"  Brulette,  you  are  trjing  to  make  me  say  that  I  am 
free  to  court  3'ou,  and  yet  you  won't  tell  me  anything 
about  3'our  own  position  ;  I  am  not  to  know  whether  you 
mean  some  day  to  favor  Joseph,  or  whether  you  are 
pledged  to  some  one  else,  — perhaps  that  tall  fellow  who 
is  lying  asleep  on  your  apron." 

"  You  are  too  inquisitive  !  "  exclaimed  Brulette,  rising 
and  hastily'  twitching  awa}^  the  apron,  which  I  was  forced 
to  let  go,  pretending  to  wake  at  that  moment. 

*'Come,  let  us  start,"  said  Huriel,  who  seemed  not  to 
care  for  Brulette's  ill-humor,  but  continued  to  smile  with 
his  white  teeth  and  his  large  eyes,  —  the  onl}-  parts  of  his 
face  which  were  not  in  mourning. 

We  continued  our  route  to  the  Bourbonnais.  The  sun 
was  hidden  behind  a  heavy  cloud  and  thunder  was  rum- 
bling in  the  distance. 

"  That  storm  over  there  is  nothing,"  said  the  muleteer, 
"  it  is  going  off  to  the  left.  If  we  don't  meet  another  as 
we  get  near  the  confluence  of  the  Jo3'euse,  we  shall  reach 
our  destination  without  difficulty.  But  the  atmosphere  is 
so  heavy  we  must  be  prepared  for  an3'thing." 

So  sa3ing,  he  unfolded  a  mantle,  with  a  woman's  hood, 
new  and  handsome,  which  was  fastened  on  his  back,  and 
which  Brulette  admired  greatly. 

*'  You  won't  tell  me  now,"  she  exclaimed,  blushing, 
' '  that  3'ou  are  not  married,  —  unless  that  is  a  wedding 
present  you  have  bought  on  your  waj'." 


The  Bagpipers.  119 

*'  Perhaps  it  is,"  said  Huriel  in  the  same  tone,  "  but  if 
it  comes  on  to  rain  you  can  take  possession  of  it ;  you 
won't  find  it  too  heavy,  and  j^our  cape  is  thin." 

Just  as  he  predicted,  the  sk}'  cleared  on  one  side  and 
clouded  on  the  other ;  and  while  we  were  crossing  an 
open  heath  between  Saint-Saturnin  and  Sidiailles,  the 
weather  suddenly  grew  tempestuous,  and  we  were  blown 
about  by  a  gale  of  wind.  The  country  itself  was  wild, 
and  I  began  to  feel  anxious  in  spite  of  m\self.  Bru- 
le tte,  too,  thought  the  place  ver}''  dreary,  and  remarked 
that  there  was  not  a  tree  for  shelter.  Huriel  laughed 
at  us. 

*'  Oh  !  3'ou  folks  from  the  wheat-lands  !  "  he  cried,  "  as 
soon  as  your  feet  touch  the  heather  you  think  j'ou  are  lost 
in  the  wilderness." 

He  was  guiding  us  in  a  bee-line,  knowing  well  all  the 
paths  and  cross-cuts  by  which  a  mule  could  pass  to 
shorten  the  distance,  —  leaving  Sidiailles  on  the  left,  and 
making  straight  for  the  banks  of  the  little  river  Joyeuse, 
a  poor  rivulet  that  looked  harmless  enough,  but  which 
nevertheless  he  seemed  in  a  hurr}'  to  get  over.  Just  as 
we  had  done  so,  the  rain  began,  and  we  were  forced  either 
to  get  wet  or  to  stop  for  shelter  at  a  mill,  called  the  mill 
of  Paulmes.  Brulette  wanted  to  go  on,  and  so  did  the 
muleteer,  who  thought  we  had  better  not  wait  till  the 
roads  grew  worse  ;  but  I  said  that  the  girl  was  trusted  to 
m}'  care,  and  that  I  could  not  have  her  exposed  to  harm  ; 
so  Huriel,  for  once,  gave  in  to  my  wishes. 

\Ye  sta3-ed  there  two  hours,  and  when  the  weather 
cleared  and  we  were  able  to  start  again  the  sun  was 
already  going  down.  The  Joyeuse  was  now  so  swollen 
that  the  crossing  would  have  been  difficult ;  happily  it  was 
behind  us  ;  but  the  roads  had  become   abominable,  and 


120  The  Baginpei'S. 

we  had  still  one  stream  to  cross  before  we  entered  the 
Bourbonnais. 

We  were  able  to  go  on  as  long  as  daylight  lasted ;  but 
the  night  soon  grew  so  dark  that  Brulette  was  frightened, 
without,  however,  daring  to  say  so ;  but  Iluriel,  perceiv- 
ing it  from  her  silence,  got  off  his  horse,  which  he  drove 
before  him,  for  the  animal  knew  the  road  as  well  as  he 
did,  and  taking  the  bridle  of  my  cousin's  mule,  led  him 
carefully  for  several  miles,  watcliing  that  he  did  not 
stumble,  plunging,  himself,  into  water  or  sand  up  to  his 
knees,  and  laughing  whenever  Brulette  pitied  him  and 
entreated  him  not  to  expose  himself  for  her.  She  began 
to  discover  now  that  he  was  a  friend  in  need,  more  help- 
ful than  her  usual  lovers,  and  that  he  knew  how  to  serve 
her  without  making  a  show  of  it. 

The  country  grew  more  and  more  drear}' ;  it  was 
nothing  but  little  grassy  slopes  cut  into  by  rivulets  bor- 
dered with  reeds  and  flowers  which  smelt  good  but  did 
not  better  the  ha}'.  The  trees  were  fine,  and  the  muleteer 
declared  the  country  richer  and  prettier  than  ours  on  ac- 
count of  its  pasture  and  fruit  lands.  But,  for  m}^  part,  I 
did  not  see  any  prospect  of  great  harvests,  and  I  wished 
I  were  at  home  again,  —  all  the  more  because  I  was  not 
assisting  Brulette,  having  enough  to  do  in  keeping  m3'self 
out  of  the  ruts  and  bogs  on  the  way. 

At  last  the  moon  shone  out,  and  we  reached  the  woods 
of  La  Roche,  at  the  confluence  of  the  Anion  and  another 
river,  the  name  of  which  I  have  forgotten. 

"  Stay  there,  on  that  bit  of  high  ground,"  Huriel  said 
to  us;  "you  can  even  dismount  and  stretch  3'our  legs. 
The  place  is  sand}',  and  the  rain  has  hardly  got  through 
the  oak-leaves.  I  am  going  to  see  if  we  can  ford  the 
stream." 


The  Bagpipers.  121 

Hg  went  clown  to  tlie  river  and  came  back  at  once,  sa}'- 
Ing:  "  The  stepping-stones  are  covered,  and  we  shall  have 
to  go  up  as  far  as  Saint-Pallais  to  get  across.  If  we  had 
not  lost  time  at  the  mill  we  could  have  crossed  before 
the  river  rose,  and  been  at  our  destination  by  this  time. 
But  w^bat  is  done  is  done ;  let  us  see  what  to  do  now. 
The  water  is  going  down.  By  staying  here  we  can  get 
across  in  five  or  six  hours,  and  reach  home  by  daybreak 
without  fatigue  or  danger,  for  the  plain  between  the  two 
arms  of  the  Arnon  is  sure  to  be  dry.  Whereas,  if  we  go 
up  to  Saint-Pallais,  we  may  stumble  about  half  the  night 
and  not  get  there  any  sooner." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Brulette,  "let  us  sta}^  here.  The 
place  is  dry  and  the  weather  is  clear ;  and  though  the 
wood  is  rather  wild,  I  shall  not  be  afraid  with  you  two 
by  me." 

"That's  a  brave  girl!"  said  Huriel.  "Come,  now 
let 's  have  supper,  as  there  is  nothing  better  to  do. 
Tiennet,  tie  the  dairin^  for  there  are  several  woods  all 
round  us  and  I  can't  be  sure  about  wolves.  Unsaddle  the 
mules  ;  they  won't  stray  from  far  the  horse  ;  and  you,  my 
pretty  one,  help  me  make  a  fire,  for  the  air  is  damp  and  I 
want  you  to  sup  comfortably  and  not  take  cold." 

I  felt  greatly  discouraged  and  sad  at  heart,  I  could 
hardly  tell  why.  Whether  I  was  mortified  at  being  of  no 
service  to  Brule tte  in  such  a  difficult  journey,  or  whether 
the  muleteer  seemed  to  make  light  of  me,  certain  it  is  I 
was  already  homesick. 

"What  are  3'ou  grumbling  about?"  said  Huriel,  who 
seemed  all  the  gayer  as  we  got  deeper  and  deeper  into 
trouble.  "Are  not  you  as  well  off  as  a  monk  in  his  re- 
fectory? These  rocks  make  a  fine  chimne}^  and  here  are 
seats  and  sideboards.     Is  n't  this  the  third  meal  you  have 


122  The  Bagpipers. 

had  to-da}'?  Don't  you  think  the  moon  gives  a  better 
Hght  than  3'our  old  pewter  lamp?  The  provisions  are  not 
hurt  bj^  the  rain,  for  my  hampers  were  tightly  covered. 
This  blazing  hearth  is  drying  the  air  all  round  us  ;  the 
branches  overhead  and  the  moist  plants  underfoot  smell 
better,  it  seems  to  mc,  than  your  cheeses  and  rancid  but- 
ter. Don't  you  breathe  another  breath  under  these  great 
vaulting  branches  ?  Look  at  them  lighted  by  the  flames  ! 
They  are  like  hundreds  of  arms  interlaced  to  shelter  us. 
If  now  and  then  a  bit  of  a  breeze  shakes  the  damp  foli- 
age, see  how  the  diamonds  rain  down  to  crown  us  !  What 
do  you  find  so  melancholy  in  the  idea  that  we  are  all  alone 
in  a  place  unknown  to  3'ou?  There  is  everything  here 
that  is  most  comforting ;  God,  in  the  first  place,  who  is 
everywhere  ;  next,  a  charming  girl  and  two  good  friends 
ready  to  stand  by  each  other.  Besides,  do  you  think  a 
man  ought  to  live  in  a  hive  all  his  days?  I  think,  on  the 
contrary,  that  it  is  his  dut}'  to  roam  ;  that  he  will  be  a 
hundred  times  stronger,  gayer,  healthier  in  body  and  mind 
if  he  does  n't  look  after  his  own  comfort  too  much,  for 
that  makes  him  languid,  timid,  and  subject  to  diseases. 
The  more  you  avoid  heat  and  cold  the  more  yoxx  will  suffer 
w4ien  they  catch  3'ou.  You  will  see  m}'  father,  who,  like 
me,  has  never  slept  in  a  bed  ten  times  in  his  life  ;  he  has 
no  rheumatism  or  lumbago,  though  he  works  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves in  the  dead  of  winter.  And  then,  too,  is  it  not 
glorious  to  feel  3'ou  are  firmer  and  more  solid  than  the 
wind  and  the  thunder?  When  the  storm  rages  isn't  the 
music  splendid?  And  the  mountain  torrents  which  rush 
down  the  ravines  and  go  dancing  from  root  to  root,  cany- 
ing  along  the  pebbles  and  leaving  their  white  foam  cling- 
ing to  the  bracken,  don't  they  sing  a  song  as  gay  as  any 
you  can  dream  of  as  you  fall  asleep  on  some  islet  they 


The  Bagpipers.  123 

have  scooped  out  around  you?  Animals  are  gloomy  in 
bad  weather,  I  admit  that ;  the  birds  are  silent,  the  foxes 
run  to  earth  ;  even  my  dog  finds  shelter  under  the  horse's 
belly  ;  what  distinguishes  man  from  beast  is  that  he  keeps 
his  heart  gay  and  peaceful  through  the  battles  of  the  air 
and  the  whims  of  the  clouds.  He  alone,  who  knows  how 
by  reasoning  to  save  liimself  from  fear  and  danger,  has 
the  instinct  to  feel  what  is  so  beautiful  in  the  uproar  of 
nature." 

Brulette  listened  eagerly  to  the  muleteer.  She  followed 
his  e3'es  and  all  his  gestures  and  entered  into  everything 
he  said,  without  explaining  to  herself  how  such  novel  ideas 
and  words  excited  her  mind  and  stirred  her  heart.  I  felt 
rather  touched  by  them,  too  (though  I  resisted  somewhat), 
for  Huriel  had  such  an  open,  resolute  face  under  all  the 
blacking  that  he  won  folks  in  spite  of  themselves,  just  as 
when  we  are  beaten  at  rackets  b}''  a  fine  player  we  admire 
him  though  we  lose  the  stakes. 

We  were  in  no  great  hurry  to  finish  our  supper,  for  cer- 
tainly the  place  was  dry,  and  when  the  fire  burned  down 
to  a  bed  of  hot  ashes,  the  weather  had  grown  so  warm  and 
clear  that  we  felt  ver}'  comfortable  and  quite  ready  to  listen 
to  the  lively  talk  and  fine  ideas  of  the  muleteer.  He  was 
silent  from  time  to  time,  listening  to  the  river,  which  still 
roared  a  good  deal ;  and  as  the  mountain  brooks  were 
pouring  into  it  with  a  thousand  murmuring  voices,  there 
was  no  likelihood  that  we  could  set  forth  a2;ain  that  nioht. 
Huriel,  after  going  down  to  examine  it,  advised  us  to  go 
to  sleep.  He  made  a  bed  for  Brulette  with  the  mule-pads, 
wrapping  her  well  up  in  all  the  extra  garments  he  had 
with  him,  and  talking  gayh',  but  with  no  gallant  speeches, 
showing  her  the  same  interest  and  tenderness,  and  no 
more,  that  he  would  have  shown  to  a  little  child. 


124  The  Bagjnpers. 

Then  he  stretched  himself,  without  cushion  or  covering, 
on  the  bare  ground  which  was  well  dried  by  the  fire,  in- 
vited me  to  do  the  same,  and  was  soon  as  fast  asleep  as 
a  dormouse  —  or  nearly  so. 

I  was  lying  quiet,  though  not  asleep,  for  I  did  not  like 
that  kind  of  dormitory,  when  I  heard  a  bell  in  the  dis- 
tance, as  if  the  clairin  had  got  loose  and  was  straying  in 
the  forest.  I  lifted  m3'self  a  little  and  saw  him  still  where 
I  had  tied  him.  I  knew  therefore  it  was  some  other 
clairin^  which  gave  notice  of  the  approach  or  vicinity  of 
other  muleteers. 

Huriel  had  instantly  risen  on  his  elbow,  listening ;  then 
he  got  on  his  feet  and  came  to  me.  "  I  am  a  sound 
sleeper,"  he  said,  '*  when  I  have  onl}^  my  mules  to  w^atch ; 
but  now  that  I  have  a  precious  princess  in  charge  it  is 
another  matter,  and  I  have  only  been  asleep  with  one  eye. 
Neither  have  you,  Tiennet,  and  that's  all  right.  Speak 
low  and  don't  move  ;  I  don't  want  to  meet  my  comrades  ; 
and  as  I  chose  this  place  for  its  solitude  I  think  they 
won't  find  us  out." 

He  had  hardly  said  the  words  when  a  dark  form  ghded 
through  the  trees  and  passed  so  close  to  Brulette  that  a 
little  more  and  it  would  have  knocked  her.  It  was  that  of 
a  muleteer,  who  at  once  gave  a  loud  cry  like  a  whistle,  to 
which  other  cries  responded  from  various  directions,  and 
in  less  than  a  minute  half  a  dozen  of  these  devils,  each 
more  hideous  to  behold  than  the  others,  were  about  us. 
We  had  been  betrayed  by  Huriel's  dog,  who,  nosing  his 
friends  and  companions  among  the  dogs  of  the  muleteers, 
had  gone  to  find  them,  and  acted  as  guide  to  their  masters 
in  discovering  our  retreat. 

Huriel  tried  to  conceal  his  uneasiness ;  for  though  I 
softly  told  Brulette  not  to  stir,  and  placed  m^'self  before 


The  Bagpipers,  125 

her,  it  seemed  impossible,  surrounded  as  we  were,  to  keep 
her  long  from  their  prying  eyes. 

I  had  a  confused  sense  of  danger,  guessing  at  more 
than  I  reall}^  saw,  for  Huriel  had  not  had  time  to  explain 
the  character  of  the  men  who  were  now  with  us.  He 
spoke  to  the  first-comer  in  the  half-Auvergnat  patois  of 
the  Upper  Bourbonnais,  which  he  seemed  to  speak  quite 
as  well  as  the  other  man,  though  he  was  born  in  the  low- 
countrj'.  I  could  understand  onl}-  a  word  here  and  there, 
but  I  made  out  that  the  talk  was  friendl}^,  and  that  the 
other  was  asking  him  who  I  was  and  what  he  was  doing 
here.  I  saw  that  Huriel  was  anxious  to  draw  him  awa}', 
and  he  even  said  to  me,  as  if  to  be  overheard  by  the  rest, 
for  they  could  all  understand  the  French  language, 
''  Come,  Tiennet,  let  us  say  good-night  to  these  friends 
and  start  on  our  waj." 

But  instead  of  leaving  us  alone  to  make  our  prepara- 
tions for  departure,  the  others,  finding  the  place  warm  and 
dry,  began  to  unpack  their  mules  and  turned  them  loose 
to  feed  until  daybreak. 

"  I  will  give  a  wolf-cry  to  get  them  out  of  sight  for  a 
few  minutes,"  whispered  Huriel.  "  Don't  move  from  here, 
and  don't  let  her  move  till  I  return.  Meantime  saddle  the 
mules  so  that  we  can  start  quickly ;  for  to  stay  here  is 
the  worst  thing  we  can  do." 

He  did  as  he  said,  and  the  muleteers  all  ran  to  where 
the  cry  sounded.  Unhappily  I  lost  patience,  and  thought 
I  could  profit  bj-  the  confusion  to  save  Brulette.  I  thought 
I  could  make  her  rise  without  any  one  seeing  her,  for  the 
wrappings  made  her  look  like  a  bale  of  clothes.  She 
reminded  me  that  Huriel  had  told  us  to  wait  for  him  ;  but 
I  was  so  possessed  with  anger  and  fear  and  jealousy,  even 
suspecting  Huriel  himself,  that  I  fairlj'  lost  my  head,  and 


126  The  Bagpipers, 

seeing  a  close  copse  very  near  us,  I  took  mj'  cousin  firmly 
by  the  hand  and  began  to  run  towards  it. 

But  the  moon  was  bright,  and  the  muleteers  so  near 
that  we  were  seen,  and  a  cr}^  arose,  — "  He}' !  he}' !  a 
woman !  "  and  all  the  scoundrels  ran  after  us.  I  saw  at 
once  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  let  myself  be  killed. 
So  lowering  n\y  head  like  a  boar  and  raising  m}'  stick  in 
in  the  air,  I  was  just  about  to  deliver  a  blow  on  the  jaws  of 
the  first-comer  which  might  have  sent  his  soul  to  Paradise, 
when  Huriel  caught  my  arm  as  he  came  swiftly  to  m}' 
side. 

Then  he  spoke  to  the  others  with  great  vehemence  and 
yet  firmness.  A  sort  of  dispute  arose,  of  which  Brulette 
and  I  could  not  understand  a  word ;  and  it  seemed  far 
from  satisfactory,  for  Huriel  was  listened  to  onl}"  now  and 
then,  and  twice  one  of  the  miscreants  got  near  enough  to 
Brulette  to  la}'  his  devilish  paw  upon  her  arm  as  if  to  lead 
her  away.  Indeed,  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  driving  my 
nails  into  his  buck's  skin  to  make  him  let  go  he  w'ould 
have  dragged  her  from  my  arms  by  the  help  of  the  rest ; 
for  there  were  eight  of  them,  all  armed  with  stout  boar- 
spears,  and  they  seemed  used  to  quarrels  and  violence. 

Huriel,  who  kept  cool  and  stood  firmly  between  us  and 
the  enemy,  prevented  my  deUvering  the  first  blow,  which, 
as  I  saw  later,  would  have  ruined  us.  He  merely  con- 
tinued to  speak,  sometimes  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance, 
sometimes  with  a  menacing  air,  and  finally  he  turned 
round  to  me  and  said  in  the  French  language:  "  Isn't 
it  true,  l^tienne,  that  this  is  your  sister,  an  honest  girl, 
betrothed  to  me,  and  now  on  her  way  to  the  Bourbonnais 
to  make  acquaintance  with  my  family  ?  These  men  here, 
my  good  friends  and  comrades  in  matters  of  right  and 
justice,  are  trying  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me  because  they 


The  Bagpipers,  127 

don't  believe  this.  They  fancy  that  you  and  I  were  talk- 
ing here  with  some  woman  we  had  just  met,  and  they 
want  to  join  company.  Bat  I  tell  them,  and  I  swear  to 
God,  that  before  the}'  insult  this  3'oang  woman  b}'  so 
much  as  a  word  the}'  will  have  to  kill  both  3'ou  and  me, 
and  bear  our  blood  on  their  souls  in  sight  of  God  and 
man." 

"Well,  what  then?"  answered  one  of  the  wretches, 
speaking  French,  — it  was  the  one  who  first  came  in  my 
way,  and  I  was  thirsting  to  deliver  him  a  blow  in  the  pit 
of  the  stomach  with  my  fist  that  should  fell  him  to  earth. 
*'  If  3'ou  get  yourself  killed,  so  much  the  worse  for  you  ! 
there  are  plenty  of  ditches  hereabouts  to  bury  fools  in. 
Suppose  3'our  friends  come  to  find  you ;  we  shall  be 
gone,  and  the  trees  and  the  stones  have  no  tongues  to 
tell  what  the}'  have  seen." 

Happily,  he  was  the  only  real  scoundrel  in  the  party. 
The  others  rebuked  him,  and  a  tall  blond  fellow,  who 
seemed  to  have  authority,  took  him  by  the  arm  and 
shoved  him  away  from  us,  swearing  and  abusing  him  in 
a  gibberish  that  made  the  whole  forest  resound. 

After  that  all  real  danger  was  over,  —  the  idea  of  shed- 
ding blood  having  touched  the  consciences  of  these  rough 
men.  They  turned  the  matter  oflT  with  a  laugh,  and  joked 
with  Huriel,  who  answered  them  in  the  same  tone.  Never- 
theless, they  seemed  unwilling  to  let  us  go.  They  wanted 
to  see  Brulette's  face,  which  she  kept  hidden  under  her 
hood,  wishing,  for  once  in  her  life,  that  she  was  old  and 

But  all  of  a  sudden  she  changed  her  mind,  having 
guessed  at  the  meaning  of  the  words  said  to  Huriel  and 
me  in  the  Auvergne  dialect.  Stung  with  anger  and  pride, 
she  let  go  my  arm,  and  throwing  back  her  hood  she  said, 


128  The  Bagpipers. 

with  an  offended  air  and  plenty  of  courage  :  ' '  Dishonor- 
able men !  I  have  the  good  fortune  not  to  understand 
what  you  say,  but  I  see  in  your  faces  that  3'ou  insult  me 
in  your  hearts.  Well,  look  at  me  !  and  if  you  have  ever 
seen  the  face  of  a  woman  who  deserves  respect,  you  may 
know  that  3'ou  see  one  now.  Shame  on  your  vile  behavior  ! 
let  me  go  my  way  without  hearing  more  of  you." 

Brulette's  action,  bold  as  it  was,  worked  marvels.  The 
tall  fellow  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  whistled  a  moment, 
while  the  others  consulted  together,  seeming  rather  con- 
fused ;  then  suddenly  he  turned  his  back  on  us,  saying  in 
a  loud  voice,  "There's  been  talk  enough;  let  us  go! 
You  elected  me  captain  of  the  company-,  and  I  will  punish 
any  one  who  annoys  Jean  Huriel  any  longer ;  for  he  is  a 
good  comrade  and  respected  b}-  the  whole  fraternity." 

The  party  filed  off,  and  Huriel,  without  saying  a  word, 
saddled  the  mules  and  made  us  mount ;  then,  going  before 
but  looking  round  at  every  step,  he  led  us  at  a  sharp  pace 
to  the  river.  It  was  still  swollen  and  roaring,  but  he 
plunged  right  in,  and  when  he  got  to  the  middle  he  cried 
out,  "  Come,  don't  be  afraid!  "  and  then,  as  I  hesitated 
to  allow  Brulette  to  get  wet,  he  came  angrily  back  to  us 
and  struck  her  mule  to  make  it  go  on,  swearing  that  it 
was  better  to  die  than  be  insulted. 

'^I  think  so  too,"  answered  Brulette  in  the  same  tone, 
and  striking  the  mule  herself,  she  plunged  boldlj"  into  the 
current,  which  foamed  higher  than  the  breast  of  the 
animal. 


The  Bagpipers,  129 


TWELFTH  EVENING. 

There  was  an  instant  when  the  animal  seemed  to  lose 
footing,  but  Brulette  just  then  was  between  us  two,  and 
showed  a  great  deal  of  courage.  When  we  reached  the 
other  bank  Huriel  again  lashed  the  beasts  and  put  them 
to  a  gallop,  and  it  was  not  until  we  reached  open  ground 
in  full  view  of  the  sk}^,  and  were  nearing  habitations,  that 
he  allowed  us  to  draw  breath. 

"Now,"  said  he,  walking  his  horse  between  Brulette 
and  me,  "  I  must  blame  both  of  you.  I  am  not  a  child  to 
have  led  you  into  danger  and  left  3'ou  there.  Wli}^  did 
3'ou  run  from  the  spot  where  I  told  you  to  wait  for  me  ?  " 

"It  is  you  who  blame  us,  is  it?"  said  Brulette,  rather 
sharpl}^  "  I  should  have  thought  it  was  all  the  other 
way." 

"  Say  what  you  have  to  sa}',"  returned  Huriel,  gravel3\ 
"  I  will  speak  later.     What  do  you  blame  me  for?" 

"  I  blame  j'ou,"  she  answered,  ••'  for  not  having  foreseen 
the  dangerous  encounter  we  were  likely  to  make  ;  I  blame 
you,  above  all,  for  giving  assurances  of  safety  to  my  grand- 
father and  me,  in  order  to  induce  me  to  leave  my  home 
and  country,  where  I  am  loved  and  respected,  and  for  hav- 
ing brought  me  through  desolate  woods  where  you  were 
scarcely  able  to  save  me  from  the  insults  of  your  friends. 
I  don't  know  what  coarse  language  they  used  about  me, 
but  I  understood  enough  to  see  that  you  were  forced  to 
answer  for  my  being  a  decent  girl.  So,  being  in  your 
company  was  enough   to   make   m}'   character   doubted ! 

9 


130  The  Bagpipers, 

Ah,  what  a  miserable  iourne}' !  This  is  the  first  time  in 
my  life  I  was  ever  insulted,  and  I  did  not  think  such  a 
thing  could  happen  to  me  ! " 

Thereupon,  her  heart  swelling  with  mortification  and 
anger,  she  began  to  cry.  Huriel  at  first  said  nothing ;  he 
seemed  very  sad.  Then  he  plucked  up  courage  and 
replied :  — 

"It  is  true,  Brulette,  that  3'ou  were  misjudged.  You 
shall  be  revenged,  I  promise  you  that.  But  as  I  could 
not  punish  those  men  at  the  time  without  endangering 
you,  I  suffer  within  me  such  pangs  of  bafl[led  rage  as  I 
cannot  describe  to  3'ou  and  3'ou  could  never  comprehend." 

Tears  cut  short  his  words. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  avenged,"  said  Brulette,  "  and  I 
beg  you  won't  think  of  it  again ;  I  will  tr}^  to  forget  it  all 
m^'self." 

"  But  you  will  alwa3^s  curse  the  da3'  when  you  trusted 
3'ourself  to  me,"  he  said,  clenching  his  fist  as  though  he 
would  fain  knock  himself  down. 

"  Come,  come,"  I  said  to  them,  "  3"ou  must  not  quarrel 
now  that  the  harm  and  the  danger  are  well  over.  I  admit 
it  was  my  fault.  Huriel  enticed  the  muleteers  awa3'  in 
one  direction  and  could  have  got  us  awa3'  in  another.  It 
was  I  who  threw  Brulette  into  the  lion's  jaws,  thinking  I 
could  save  her  quicker." 

"  There  wor.ld  have  been  no  danger  but  for  that,"  said 
Huriel.  "•  Of  course,  among  muleteers,  as  among  all  men 
who  lead  a  half- wild  life,  there  are  scoundrels.  There  was 
one  of  the  kind  in  that  band ;  but  jo\x  saw  that  the3^  all 
blamed  him.  It  is  also  true  that  man3^  of  us  are  unedu- 
cated and  make  unseeml3"  jokes.  But  I  don't  know  what 
3'ou  really  accuse  our  fraternity  of  doing.  We  may  be 
partners  in  mone3''  and  pleasure,  as  we  are  in  losses  and 


The  Bagpipers,  131 

dangers,  but  we  all  of  us  respect  women  quite  as  much  as 
other  Christian  folk  do.  You  saw  yourself  that  virtue  was 
respected  for  its  own  sake,  because  one  word  from  you 
brought  those  men  at  once  to  their  dut}'." 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Brulette,  still  angr}',  "you  were 
in  a  great  hurry  to  get  us  awa}'' ;  j^ou  made  us  go  fast 
enough  to  risk  being  drowned  in  the  river.  You  know 
you  were  not  master  of  those  bad  men,  and  you  were 
afraid  thev  mioht  return  to  their  evil  wishes." 

"  It  all  came  from  their  seeing  you  run  away  with 
Tiennet,"  said  Huriel.  "They  thought  you  were  doing 
wrong.  If  it  had  not  been  for  your  fear  and  your  distrust 
of  me  3'ou  would  never  have  been  seen  by  m}"  comrades. 
You  may  as  well  confess,  both  of  3'ou,  that  you  had  a  very 
bad  idea  of  me." 

"  I  never  had  a  bad  idea  of  3'ou,"  said  Brulette. 

"  I  had,"  said  I,  "just  then,  for  a  moment;  I  confess 
it,  for  I  don't  wish  to  lie." 

"It  is  always  better  not,"  returned  Huriel,  "and  I 
hope  3'Ou  will  soon  think  differentl3'  of  me." 

"I  do  now,"  I  said.  "  I  saw  how  firm  3'ou  were,  and 
how  3'ou  mastered  3'our  anger,  and  I  agree  that  it  was 
wiser  to  speak  soft  in  the  beginning  than  to  end  soft ; 
blows  come  fast  enough.  If  it  were  not  for  3'ou,  I  should 
be  dead  now,  and  so  would  you  for  helping  me,  which 
would  have  been  a  dreadful  thing  for  Brulette.  And  now, 
here  we  are  well  out  of  it,  thanks  to  3^ou  ;  and  I  think  we 
ought,  all  three  of  us,  to  be  the  better  friends." 

"  That 's  good !  "  cried  Huriel,  pressing  m3'  hand. 
"That's  the  Berrichon's  best  nature;  he  shows  his  good 
sense  and  his  sober  judgment.  You  ought  to  be  a  Bour- 
bonnaise,  Brulette,  you  are  so  hast3'  and  impulsive." 

She  allowed  him  to  take  her  hand  in  his,  but  she  con- 


132  The  Bagpipers. 

tinned  tbonghtfiil ;  and  as  I  feared  she  might  take  cold 
after  getting  so  wet  in  the  river,  we  entered  the  first  house 
we  came  to  to  change  our  clothes  and  refresh  ourselves 
with  a  little  mulled  wine.  It  was  now  da3'break,  and  the 
country-folk  seemed  ver}'  kind  and  ready  to  help  us. 

When  we  resumed  our  journey  the  sun  was  alread}'' 
warm,  and  the  country,  which  lay  rather  high  between  two 
rivers,  was  delightful  to  the  e3'e  and  reminded  me  a  little 
of  our  own  plains.  Brulette's  vexation  was  all  over  ;  for, 
in  talking  with  her  beside  the  fire  of  the  good  Bourbon- 
nais,  I  had  proved  to  her  that  an  honest  girl  was  not  de- 
graded by  the  talk  of  a  drunken  man,  and  that  no  woman 
was  safe  if  such  things  were  to  be  considered.  The  mule- 
teer had  left  us  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  returned  to 
put  Brulette  into  her  saddle  she  could  not  restrain  a  cry  of 
amazement.  He  had  washed  and  shaved  and  dressed 
himself  properly,  —  not  so  handsomel}"  as  the  first  time 
she  had  seen  him,  but  looking  well  enough  in  fiice  and 
well  enoug-h  clothed  to  do  her  honor. 

However,  she  uttered  neither  compliment  nor  jest ;  she 
only  looked  at  him  intently  when  his  eyes  were  not  upon 
her,  as  if  to  renew  her  acquaintance  with  him.  She 
seemed  sorry  to  have  been  crabbed  with  him,  and  as  if 
she  did  not  know  how  to  make  it  up  ;  but  he  talked  of  other 
things,  explained  the  Bourbonnais  district  which  we  had 
entered  after  crossing  the  river,  told  me  about  the  man- 
ners and  customs,  and  discoursed  like  a  man  who  was  not 
wanting  for  sense  in  any  way. 

At  the  end  of  two  hours,  without  fatigue  or  further  ad- 
venture, but  still  riding  up  hill,  we  reached  Mes^Dles,  the 
parish  adjoining  the  forest  where  we  were  to  find  Joseph. 
We  passed  straight  through  the  village,  where  Huriel  was 
accosted  b}"  many  persons  who  seemed  to  hold  him  in 


The  Bagpipers.  133 

much  esteem,  —  not  to  mention  some  young  girls  who  ej'ed 
with  surprise  the  company'  he  liad  with  liim. 

TVe  had  not,  however,  reached  our  destination.  We 
were  bound  for  the  depths,  or  rather  I  should  sa}"  the  high- 
est part,  of  the  wood  ;  for  the  forest  of  the  AUeu,  which 
joins  that  of  ChambL'rat,  covers  the  plateau  from  which 
five  or  six  little  rivers  or  brooks  come  down,  forming  a 
wild  tract  of  country  surrounded  by  barren  plains,  where 
the  view  is  extensive  on  all  sides,  towards  other  forests 
and  other  heaths  stretching  endlesslj'  awa}'. 

We  were  as  3'et  only  in  what  is  called  the  Lower  Bour- 
bonnais,  which  adjoins  the  upper  part  of  Berry.  Huriel 
told  me  that  the  ground  continued  to  ascend  as  far  as 
Auvergne.  The  woods  were  fine,  —  chiefly  full-grown  trees 
of  white  oak,  which  are  the  finest  species.  The  brooks, 
which  cut  into  and  ravine  these  woods  in  every  direction, 
form  in  many  places  moist  coverts,  where  alders,  willows, 
and  aspen  grow ;  all  fine  trees,  which  those  of  our  region 
can't  compare  with.  I  saw  also,  for  the  first  time,  a  tree 
with  white  stems  and  beautiful  foliage,  called  the  beech, 
which  does  not  grow  with  us.  It  is  the  king  of  trees  after 
the  oak ;  for  if  it  is  less  handsome  than  the  latter,  it  is 
certainly  quite  as  lovely.  There  were  but  few  of  them  in 
these  forests,  and  Huriel  told  me  they  abounded  only  in 
the  centre  of  the  Bourbonnais  country. 

I  gazed  at  all  these  things  with  much  interest,  expect- 
ing, however,  to  see  more  rare  things  than  there  were, 
and  half-believing  the  trees  would  have  their  roots  in  the 
air  and  their  heads  in  the  ground,  after  the  manner  of 
those  who  imagine  about  distant  parts  that  they  have 
never  seen.  As  for  Brulette,  whether  it  was  that  she  had 
a  natural  taste  for  wild  scenery,  or  whether  she  wanted  to 
console  Huriel  for  the  reproaches  she  had  showered  on 


134  The  Bagpipers. 

liim,  it  is  certain  that  she  admired  things  out  of  all  reason, 
and  did  honor  and  reverence  to  the  least  little  wild  flower 
she  saw  in  the  path. 

We  advanced  for  some  time  withont  meeting  a  living 
soul,  when  suddenly  Huriel  said,  pointing  to  an  open  and 
some  felled  trees  :  "  Here  we  are,  at  the  clearing  ;  now  in 
a  miniite  more  3'ou  w^ll  see  our  city  and  my  father's 
castle." 

He  laughed  as  he  said  it,  and  we  were  still  looking 
about  us  for  something  like  a  village,  when  he  added, 
pointing  to  some  mud  huts  which  were  more  like  the  lairs 
of  animals  than  the  abodes  of  men  :  "  These  are  our  sum- 
mer palaces,  our  countr3'-houses.  Stay  here,  and  I  will 
call  Joseph." 

He  went  off  at  a  gallop,  looked  into  the  doorways  of  all 
the  huts,  and  came  back,  evidentl}'  uneasy,  but  hiding 
it  as  best  he  could,  to  sa}" :  "  There  is  no  one  here,  and 
that  is  a  good  sign.  Joseph  must  be  better,  and  has  gone 
to  worlv  with  my  father.  Wait  for  me  here  ;  sit  down  and 
rest  in  our  cabin  ;  it  is  the  first,  right  before  you ;  I  'II  go 
and  see  where  the  patient  is." 

*'  No,  no,"  said  Brulette  ;  "  we  will  go  with  .you." 

"  Are  3'ou  afraid  to  be  alone  here?  You  are  quite  mis- 
taken. You  are  now  in  the  domain  of  the  woodsmen,  and 
they  are  not,  like  the  muleteers,  imps  of  Satan.  They  are 
honest  country-folk,  like  those  jow  have  at  home,  and 
where  my  father  rules  3'ou  have  nothing  to  fear." 

''I  am  not  afraid  of  your  people,"  replied  Brulette, 
"but  it  frightens  me  not  to  find  Jose.  Who  knows?  per- 
haps he  is  dead  and  buried.  The  idea  has  just  come  into 
m}''  head  and  it  makes  m}'  blood  creep." 

Huriel  turned  pale,  as  if  the  same  thought  struck  him  ; 
but  he  would  not  give  heed  to  it.     ' '  The  good  God  would 


The  Bagijipers.  135 

never  have  allowed  it/'  he  said.  "  But  get  down,  leave 
the  mules  just  here,  and  come  with  me." 

He  took  a  little  path  which  led  to  another  clearing ;  but 
even  there  we  did  not  find  Joseph  nor  any  one  else. 

''You  fancy  these  woods  are  deserted,"  said  Iluriel; 
"  and  yet  I  see  by  fresh  marks  of  the  axe  that  the  woods- 
men have  been  at  work  here  all  the  morning.  This  is  the 
hour  when  they  take  a  little  nap,  and  they  are  probably  all 
l3'ing  among  the  bracken,  where  we  should  not  see  them 
unless  we  stepped  upon  them.  But  listen  !  there 's  a  sound 
that  delights  my  heart.  My  father  is  playing  the  bagpipe, 
—  I  recognize  his  method  ;  and  that's  a  sign  that  Jose  is 
better,  for  it  is  not  a  sad  tune,  and  my  father  would  be 
ver}^  sad  if  any  misfortune  had  happened  to  the  lad." 

"SVe  followed  Huriel,  and  the  music  was  certainly  so 
delightful  that  Brulette,  hurrying  as  she  was  to  get  to 
Joseph,  could  not  help  stopping  now  and  then,  as  if 
charmed,  to  listen.  And  I  myself,  without  being  able 
to  comprehend  the  thing  as  she  did,  felt  all  five  of  ray 
natural  senses  stirred  up  within  me.  At  every  step  I 
fancied  I  saw  difFerentl}',  heard  differently,  breathed  and 
walked  in  a  different  manner  from  what  I  ever  did  before. 
The  trees  seemed  finer,  so  did  the  earth  and  sky,  and  my 
heart  was  full  of  a  satisfaction  I  could  n't  give  a  reason 
for. 

Presently,  standing  on  some  rocks,  round  which  a 
pretty  rivulet  all  full  of  flowers  was  murmuring  along, 
we  saw  Joseph,  looking  ver}'  sad,  beside  a  man  who  was 
sitting  down  and  playing  a  bagpipe  to  please  the  poor  sick 
fellow.  The  dog,  Parpluche,  was  beside  them  and  seemed 
to  be  listening  too,  like  an  intelligent  human  being. 

As  the  pair  paid  no  heed  to  us  Brulette  held  us  back, 
wishing  to  examine  Joseph  and  judge  of  his  health  by  his 


136  The  Bagpipers. 

appearance  before  she  spoke  to  him.  He  was  as  white  as 
a  sheet  and  as  shrunken  as  a  bit  of  dead  wood,  b}^  which 
we  knew  that  the  muleteer  had  not  deceived  us  ;  but  what 
was  very  consoling  was  the  fact  that  he  was  nearl}^  a  head 
taller  than  when  he  left  us  ;  which  of  course  the  people 
about  him  might  not  notice,  but  which,  to  us,  explained  his 
illness  as  the  result  of  his  growth.  In  spite  of  his  sunken 
cheeks  and  white  lips,  he  had  grown  to  be  a  handsome 
man ;  his  e3'es,  notwithstanding  his  languid  manner,  were 
clear,  and  even  bright  as  running  water,  his  hair  fine  and 
parted  above  his  pallid  face  like  that  of  the  blessed  Jesus  ; 
in  short,  he  was  the  image  of  an  angel  from  heaven,  which 
made  him  as  different  from  other  peasants  as  the  almond- 
flower  diff'ers  from  an  almoa  in  its  husk.  His  hands 
were  as  white  as  a  woman's,  for  the  reason  that  he  had 
not  worked  of  late,  and  the  Bourbonnais  costunie  wliich 
he  had  taken  to  wearing  showed  off*  his  well-built  figure 
better  than  the  hempen  blouses  and  big  sabots  of  our 
parts. 

Having  given  our  first  attention  to  Joseph  we  were  next 
compelled  to  look  at  Huriel's  father,  a  man  I  have  seldom 
seen  the  like  of,  —  one  who,  without  education,  had  great 
knowledge  and  a  mind  that  would  not  have  disgraced  the 
wealthy  and  famous.  He  was  tall  and  strong,  of  fine 
carriage,  like  Huriel,  but  stouter  and  broader  about  the 
shoulders  ;  his  head  was  ponderous  and  set  on  like  that 
of  a  bull.  His  face  was  not  at  all  handsome,  for  his  nose 
was  flat,  his  lips  thick,  and  his  e^'es  round ;  but  for  all 
that,  it  was  one  3'ou  liked  to  look  at,  for  it  satisfied  3'ou 
with  its  air  of  command  and  of  strength  and  of  goodness. 
His  large  black  ev^es  glittered  like  lightning-flashes  from 
his  head,  and  his  broad  mouth  laughed  with  a  glee  which 
would  have  brought  you  back  from  the  jaws  of  death. 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  137 

At  the  present  moment  his  liead  was  covered  with  a 
blue  handkerchief  knotted  behind,  and  he  wore  no  other 
garments  than  his  shirt  and  breeches,  with  a  big  leather 
apron,  which  his  hands,  hardened  by  toil,  matched  in  color 
and  texture.  In  fact,  his  fingers,  scarred  and  crushed  by 
man}^  an  accident,  for  he  never  spared  himself  danger, 
looked  like  roots  of  box  twisted  into  knots,  and  the  won- 
der was  that  he  wns  able  to  do  any  work  bej'ond  breaking 
stones  with  a  pick-axe.  Nevertheless  he  used  them  as 
delicately  on  the  chanter  of  his  bagpipe  as  if  they  were 
slender  reeds,  or  tin}'  bird's  claws. 

Beside  him  were  the  trunks  of  several  large  oaks,  lately 
cut  down  and  sawn  apart ;  among  them  lay  his  tools,  —  his 
axe,  shining  like  a  razor,  his  saw  as  pliable  a  reed,  and 
his  earthen  bottle,  the  wine  of  which  kept  up  his  strength. 

Presently  Joseph,  who  was  listening  breathless!}'  to  the 
music,  saw  his  dog  Parpluche  run  towards  us  ;  he  raised 
his  eyes  and  beheld  us  within  ten  feet  of  him.  From  pal- 
lid he  grcAv  red  as  fire,  but  did  not  stir,  thinking  probably 
it  was  a  vision  called  up  by  the  music  which  had  made 
him  dream. 

Brulette  ran  to  him,  her  arms  extended  ;  then  he  uttered 
a  cr}'  and  fell,  as  if  choking,  on  his  knees,  which  fright- 
ened me,  for  I  had  no  conception  of  that  sort  of  love,  and 
I  thought  he  had  a  fit  which  might  kill  him.  But  he  re- 
covered himself  quickly  and  began  to  thank  Brulette  and 
me  and  also  Huriel,  with  such  friendly  words  so  readily 
uttered,  that  you  would  never  think  it  was  the  same  Jose 
who  in  the  olden  time  always  answered,  ' '  I  don't  know  " 
to  everything  that  was  said  to  him. 

Pere  Bastien,  or  rather  the  Head-Woodsman  (for  such 
he  was  alwa3's  called  in  these  parts),  laid  aside  his  bag- 
pipe, and  while  Brulette  and  Joseph  were  talking  together, 


138  The  Bagiripers, 

he  shook  me  b}'  the  hand  and  welcomed  me  as  if  he  had 
known  me  from  my  birth  up. 

"So  this  is  your  friend  Tiennet?"  he  said  to  his  son. 
"  Well,  his  face  suits  me,  and  his  body,  too,  for  I  warrant 
I  can  hardly  meet  my  arms  round  it,  and  I  have  always 
noticed  that  the  biggest  and  strongest  men  are  the  gen- 
tlest. I  see  it  in  you,  my  Huriel,  and  in  myself,  too,  for 
I'm  alwa3's  inclined  to  love  my  neighbor  rather  than  crush 
him.  So,  Tiennet,  I  give  3'ou  welcome  to  our  wild  woods  ; 
you  won't  find  3'our  fine  wheaten  bread  nor  the  variety  of 
salads  3'ou  get  from  your  garden,  but  we  will  trj-  to  regale 
you  with  good  talk  and  heart}'  good-will.  I  see  3'ou  have 
brought  that  handsome  Nohant  girl  who  is  half-sister,  half- 
mother  to  our  poor  Jose.  That's  a  good  deed  done,  for 
he  had  no  heart  to  get  well ;  now  I  shall  feel  easier  about 
him,  for  I  think  the  medicine  is  good." 

As  he  said  this  he  looked  at  Jose,  who  was  sitting  on 
his  heels  at  Brulette's  feet,  holding  her  hand  and  gazing  at 
her  with  all  his  e^'es,  while  he  asked  questions  about  his 
mother,  and  Pere  Brulet,  and  the  neighbors,  and  all  the 
parish.  Brulette,  observing  that  the  Head-Woodsman 
was  speaking  of  her,  came  to  him  and  begged  pardon  for 
not  having  saluted  him  at  first.  But  he,  without  more 
ado,  took  her  round  the  waist  and  set  her  on  a  high  rock, 
as  if  to  see  her  all  at  once,  like  the  figure  of  a  saint  or 
some  other  precious  thing.  Then,  placing  her  on  the 
ground  again,  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  saying  to 
Jose,  who  blushed  as  much  as  Brulette :  — 

"You  told  me  true;  she  is  pretty  from  top  to  toe. 
Here,  I  think,  is  a  bit  of  nature  without  a  flaw.  Bod}' 
and  soul  are  of  the  best  quality  ;  I  can  see  that  in  her  e3'e. 
Tell  me,  Huriel,  for  I  am  so  blind  about  m}^  own  children 
that  I  can't  judge,  is  she  prettier  than  ^'our  sister?    I 


The  Bagpipers.  139 

think  she  is  not  less  so,  and  if  they  were  both  mine  I  don't 
know  which  I  should  be  proudest  of.  Come,  come,  Bru- 
lette,  don't  be  ashamed  of  being  handsome,  and  don't  be 
vain  of  it,  either.  The  workman  who  made  the  creatures 
of  this  world  beautiful  did  not  consult  you,  and  3'ou  count 
for  nothing  in  his  work.  What  he  has  done  for  us  we  can 
spoil  by  folly  or  stupidity  ;  but  I  see  by  your  appearance 
that,  far  from  doing  that,  you  respect  his  gifts  in  yourself. 
Yes,  yes,  you  are  a  beautiful  girl,  healthy  in  heart  and  up- 
right in  mind.  I  know  you  alread\^,  for  you  have  come 
here  to  comfort  that  poor  lad,  who  longed  for  you  as  the 
earth  longs  for  rain.  Man}'  another  would  not  have  done 
as  you  have  done,  and  I  respect  you  for  it.  Therefore,  I 
ask  your  friendship  for  me,  who  will  be  to  you  a  father, 
and  for  my  two  children,  who  will  be  as  brother  and  sister 
to  3'ou." 

Brulette,  whose  heart  was  still  swelling  with  the  insults 
of  the  muleteers  in  the  woods  of  La  Roche,  was  so  grati- 
fied b}'  the  respect  and  the  compliments  of  the  Head- 
Woodsman  that  the  tears  began  to  fall,  and  flinging  her- 
self upon  his  neck  she  could  answer  onl}'  by  kissing  him, 
as  though  he  were  her  own  father. 

"  The  best  of  all  answers,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  content 
with  it.  Now,  m}^  children;  my  rest  hour  is  over  and  I 
must  go  to  work.  If  you  are  hungry,  here  is  my  wallet 
with  some  provisions  in  it.  Huriel  will  go  and  find  his 
sister,  so  that  she  ma}"  keep  3'ou  companj^ ;  and,  mean- 
time, m}"  Eerrichons,  3'Ou  must  talk  with  Joseph,  for  T 
imagine  3'ou  have  a  deal  to  sa3'  to  each  other.  But  don't 
go  far  away  from  the  sound  of  m3'  axe,  for  you  don't  know 
the  forest  and  3'Ou  might  get  lost." 

Thereupon  he  set  to  work  among  the  trees,  after  hang- 
ing  his    bagpipe  to   the  branches  of  one   that  was  still 


140  The  Bagpipers, 

standing.  Huriel  ate  some  food  with  us  and  answered 
Brulette,  who  questioned  him  about  liis  sister. 

"  M}'  sister  Therence,"  he  said,  "is  a  prett}-  gh'l  and  a 
good  girl,  of  about  ^our  own  age.  I  shall  not  say,  as  my 
father  did,  that  she  compares  with  you  ;  but  such  as  she 
is  she  lets  people  look  at  her,  and  her  spirit  is  none  of  the 
tamest  either.  She  follows  my  father  to  all  his  stations, 
so  that  he  ma}^  not  miss  his  home  ;  for  the  life  of  a  woods- 
man, like  that  of  a  muleteer,  is  verj-  hard  and  dreary  if  he 
has  no  companionship  for  his  heart." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  asked  Brulette.  "  Can't  we  go 
and  find  her?  " 

"  I  don't  know  where  she  is,"  replied  Huriel;  "  and  I 
rather  wonder  she  did  not  hear  us,  for  she  is  seldom  far 
from  the  lodges.     Have  you  seen  her  to-da}^,  Joseph?  " 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "but  not  since  morning.  She 
was  feeling  ill  and  complained  of  head-ache." 

"  She  is  not  used  to  complain  of  anything,"  said  Huriel. 
"  If  3'ou  will  excuse  me,  Brulette,  I  will  go  and  fetch  her 
to  you  as  fast  as  I  can." 


The  Bagpipers,  141 


THIRTEENTH   EVENING. 

After  Huriel  left  us  we  walked  about  and  talked  to 
Joseph  ;  but  thinking  that  it  was  enough  for  him  to  have 
seen  me  and  that  he  might  like  to  be  alone  with  Brulette, 
I  left  them  together,  without  appearing  to  do  so,  and  went 
after  Pere  Bastien  to  watch  him  at  work. 

It  was  a  more  cheering  sight  than  you  can  possibly 
imagine.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  seen  man's  handiwork 
despatched  in  so  free  and  jovial  a  manner.  I  believe  he 
could,  without  tiring  himself,  have  done  the  work  of  four 
of  the  strongest  men  in  his  employ ;  and  that,  too,  while 
talking  and  laughing  in  compan}',  or  singing  and  whistling 
when  alone.  He  told  me  that  wood-cutters  as  a  general 
thing  lived  near  the  woods  where  the}'  worked,  and  that 
when  their  houses  were  within  easy  distance  they  went 
daily  to  and  from  their  work.  Others,  living  farther  off, 
came  by  the  week,  starting  from  home  Monday  before 
daybreak,  and  returning  the  following  Saturday  night. 
As  for  those  who  came  down  with  him  from  the  uplands, 
they  were  hired  for  three  months,  and  their  huts  were 
larger  and  better  built  and  victualled  than  those  of  the 
men  who  came  by  the  week. 

The  same  plan  was  followed  with  the  charcoal  men, 
meaning  by  them  not  those  who  buy  charcoal  to  sell,  but 
those  who  make  it  on  the  spot  for  the  benefit  of  the 
owners  of  the  woods  and  forests.  There  were  other  men 
who  bought  the  right  to  put  it  in  the  market,  just  as  there 
were  muleteers  who  bought  and  sold  charcoal  on  their 


142  The  Bagpipers. 

own  account ;  but  as  a  general  thing,  the  business  of  the 
muleteer  was  solel}'  that  of  transporting  it. 

At  the  present  time  this  business  of  the  muleteers  is 
going  down,  and  it  will  probably-  soon  be  extinct.  The 
forests  are  better  cleared  ;  there  are  fewer  of  those  impas- 
sable places  for  horses  and  wagons  where  mules  alone  can 
make  their  way.  The  number  of  manufactories  and  iron- 
works which  still  use  wood-coal  is  much  restricted ;  in 
fact,  there  are  but  few  muleteers  now  in  our  part  of  the 
country.  Onl}^  a  few  remain  in  the  great  forests  of 
Cheurre  in  Berr}^  together  with  the  woodsmen  in  the 
Upper  Bourbonnais.  But  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  tell- 
ing you,  when  the  forests  covered  one-half  of  our  prov- 
inces, all  these  trades  were  flourishing  and  much  sought 
after.  So  much  so  that  in  a  forest  which  was  being 
cleared  you  might  find  a  whole  population  of  these  diflTer- 
ent  trades,  each  having  its  customs  and  its  fraternities, 
and  living,  as  much  as  possible,  on  good  terms  with  each 
other. 

Pere  Bastien  told  me,  and  later  I  saw  it  for  myself, 
that  all  men  who  went  to  work  in  the  woods  grew  so 
accustomed  to  the  roving  and  hazardous  life  that  they 
suffered  a  kind  of  homesickness  if  they  were  obliged  to 
live  on  the  plains.  As  for  him,  he  loved  the  woods  like 
a  fox  or  a  wolf,  though  he  was  the  kindest  of  men  and 
the  liveliest  companion  that  3"ou  could  find  anywhere. 

For  all  that,  he  never  laughed,  as  Huriel  did,  at  my 
preference  for  ni}'  own  region.  "  All  parts  of  the  country 
are  fine,"  he  said,  "  if  they  are  our  own ;  it  is  right  that 
every  one  should  feel  a  particular  liking  for  the  region 
that  brought  him  up.  That 's  a  provision  of  God,  with- 
out which  the  barren  and  dreary  places  would  be  neg- 
lected and  abandoned.     I   have  heard   tell  of  folks  who 


The  Bagpipers,  143 

travelled  far  into  lands  covered  with  snow  and  ice  the 
greater  part  of  the  3'ear ;  and  into  othei's  where  fire  came 
from  the  mountains  and  ravaged  the  land.  Nevertheless, 
people  build  fine  houses  on  these  bedevilled  mountains, 
and  hollow  caves  to  live  in  under  the  snow.  The}^  love, 
and  many,  and  dance,  and  sing,  and  sleep,  and  bring  up 
children,  just  as  we  do.  Never  despise  any  man's  home 
or  lodging  or  family.  The  mole  loves  his  dark  tomb  as 
much  as  the  bird  loves  its  nest  in  the  foHage  ;  and  the  ant 
would  laugh  in  j'our  face  if  you  tried  to  make  him  believe 
there  were  kings  who  built  better  palaces  than  he." 

The  da}'  was  getting  on,  and  still  Huriel  did  not  return 
with  his  sister  Therence.  Pere  Bastien  seemed  surprised 
but  not  uneas}'.  I  went  towards  Brulette  and  Jose  sev- 
eral times,  for  they  were  not  far  off;  but  as  the}'  were 
always  talking  and  took  no  notice  of  my  approach,  I 
finally  went  off  by  m^'self,  not  knowing  very  well  how  to 
while  awa}'  the  time.  I  was,  above  all  things,  the  true 
friend  of  that  dear  girl.  Ten  times  a  da}'  I  felt  I  was  in 
love  with  her,  and  ten  times  a  day  I  knew  I  was  cured  of 
it ;  and  now  I  made  no  pretence  of  love,  and  so  felt  no 
chagrin.  I  had  never  been  very  jealous  of  Joseph  before 
the  muleteer  told  us  of  the  great  love  that  was  consuming 
him  ;  and  after  that  time,  strange  to  say,  I  was  not  jealous 
at  all.  The  more  compassion  Brulette  showed  for  liim, 
the  more  I  seemed  to  see  that  she  gave  it  from  a  sense  of 
friendly  duty.  And  that  grieved  me  instead  of  pleasing 
me.  Having  no  hope  for  myself,  I  still  wanted  to  kee}1" 
the  presence  and  companionship  of  a  person  who  made 
everything  comfortable  about  her ;  and  I  also  felt  that  if 
any  one  deserved  her,  it  was  the  young  fellow  who  had 
always  loved  her,  and  who,  no  doubt,  could  never  make 
any  one  else  love  him. 


144  The  Bagpipers. 

I  was  even  surprised  that  Brulette  did  not  feel  it  so  in 
her  heart,  especiall}'  when  it  appeared  how  Jose,  in  spite 
of  his  ilhiess,  had  grown  handsome,  well-informed,  and 
agreeable  in  speech.  No  doubt  he  owed  this  change  for 
the  better  to  the  companionship  of  the  Head-Woodsman 
and  his  son,  but  he  had  also  set  his  own  will  to  it,  and  she 
ought  to  have  approved  of  him  for  that.  However,  Bru- 
lette seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  the  change,  and  I  fancied 
that  during  the  journe}'  she  had  thought  more  of  the 
muleteer  Huriel  than  I  had  known  her  to  do  of  an}'  other 
man.  That  idea  began  to  distress  me  more  and  more ; 
for  if  her  fanc}^  turned  upon  this  stranger,  two  terrible 
disasters  faced  me  ;  one  was  that  our  poor  Jose  would 
die  of  grief,  the  other,  that  our  dear  Brulette  would  leave 
our  part  of  the  country  and  I  should  no  longer  see  her,  or 
have  her  to  talk  to. 

I  had  got  about  so  far  in  my  reasoning  when  I  saw 
Huriel  returning,  bringing  with  him  so  beautiful  a  girl 
that  Brulette  could  not  compare  with  her.  She  was  tall, 
slender,  broad  in  the  shoulders,  and  free,  like  her  brother, 
in  all  her  movements.  Her  complexion  was  naturally 
brown,  but  living  alwa3'S  in  the  shade  of  woods  she  was 
pale,  though  not  pallid,  —  a  sort  of  whiteness  which  was 
charming  to  the  eye,  though  it  surprised  you,  —  and  all  the 
other  features  of  her  face  were  faultless.  I  was  rather 
shocked  b}^  her  little  straw  hat,  turned  up  behind  like  the 
stern  of  a  boat ;  but  from  it  issued  a  mass  of  such  marvel- 
lous black  hair  that  I  soon  grew  reconciled  to  its  oddity. 
I  noticed  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  her  that,  unlike 
Brulette,  she  was  neither  smiling  nor  gracious.  She  did 
not  try  to  make  herself  prettier  than  she  was,  and  her 
whole  aspect  was  of  a  more  decided  character,  hotter  in 
will  and  colder  in  manner. 


The  Bagpipers.  145 

As  I  was  sitting  against  a  pile  of  cut  wood,  neither  of 
them  saw  me,  and  when  they  stopped  close  by  where  two 
paths  forked  they  were  speaking  to  each  other  as  though 
they  w^ere  alone. 

"  I  shall  not  go,"  said  the  beautiful  Therence,  in  a  firm 
voice.  ' '  I  am  going  to  the  lodges  to  prepare  their  beds 
and  their  supper.  That  is  all  that  I  choose  to  do  at  the 
present  time." 

* '  Won't  you  speak  to  them  ?  Are  you  going  to  show 
ill-temper?"  said  Huriel,  as  if  surprised. 

"I  am  not  out  of  temper,"  answered  the  3'oung  girl. 
"Besides,  if  I  were,  I  am  not  forced  to  show  it." 

"  You  do  show  it  though,  if  you  won't  go  and  welcome 
that  3'ouug  girl,  who  must  be  getting  very  tired  of  the 
com  pan}'  of  men,  and  who  will  be  glad  enough  to  see 
another  girl  like  herself." 

"  She  can't  be  very  tired  of  them,"  replied  Therence, 
"  unless  she  has  a  bad  heart.  However,  I  am  not  bound 
to  amuse  her.  I  will  serve  her  and  help  her ;  that  is  all 
that  I  consider  mj'  dut}'." 

"  But  she  expects  you  ;  what  am  I  to  tell  her?  " 

"Tell  her  what  you  like;  I  am  not  obhged  to  render 
account  of  myself  to  her." 

So  saying,  the  daughter  of  the  Head-Woodsman  turned 
into  a  wood-path  and  Huriel  stood  still  a  moment,  thinking, 
like  a  man  who  is  trving  to  guess  a  riddle. 

Then  he  went  on  his  wa}' ;  but  I  remained  just  where  I 
was,  rigid  as  a  stone  image.  A  sort  of  vision  came  over 
me  when  I  first  beheld  Therence;  I  said  to  m3'self: 
"That  face  is  known  to  me;  who  is  it  she  is  like?" 

Then,  slowl}',  as  I  looked  at  her  and  heard  her  speak, 
I  knew  she  reminded  me  of  the  little  girl  in  the  cart 
that  was  stuck  in  the  mire,  —  the  little  girl  who  had  set 

10 


146  The  Bagpipers. 

me  dreaming  all  one  evening,  and  who  ma}-  have  been  the 
reason  why  Brulette,  thinking  me  too  simple  in  my  tastes, 
had  turned  her  love  awa}'  from  me.  At  last,  when  she 
passed  close  by  me  in  going  awa^^  I  noticed  the  black 
mole  at  the  corner  of  her  mouth,  and  I  knew  by  that  that 
she  was  indeed  the  girl  of  the  woods  whom  I  had  carried 
in  m}^  arms,  and  who  had  kissed  me  then  as  readily  as  she 
now  seemed  unwilling  even  to  receive  me. 

I  stayed  a  long  time  thinking  of  man}-  things  in  connec- 
tion with  this  encounter ;  but  finally  Pere  Bastien's  bag- 
pipe, sounding  a  sort  of  fiinfare,  warned  me  that  the  sun 
was  going  down.  I  had  no  trouble  in  finding  the  path  to 
the  lodges,  as  they  call  the  huts  of  the  woodsmen.  That 
belonging  to  Huriel  was  larger  and  better  built  than  the  rest ; 
it  consisted  of  two  rooms,  one  of  th^m  being  for  Therence. 
In  front  of  it  was  a  kind  of  shed  roofed  with  green  boughs, 
which  served  as  a  shelter  from  wind  and  rain  ;  two  boards 
placed  on  trestles  made  a  table,  laid  for  the  occasion. 

Usually  the  Huriel  famih'  lived  on  bread  and  cheese, 
with  a  little  salt  meat  once  a  da}'.  This  was  neither  mi- 
serliness nor  poverty,  but  simplicity  of  life  and  customs  ; 
these  children  of  the  woods  think  our  need  of  hot  meals 
and  the  way  we  have  of  keeping  our  women  cooking  from 
morning  till  night  both  useless  and  exacting. 

However,  expecting  the  arrival  of  Joseph's  mother  or 
that  of  Pere  Brulet,  Therence,  wishing  to  give  them  what 
they  were  accustomed  to,  had  gone  the  night  before  to 
Mesples  for  provisions.  She  now  lighted  a  fire  in  the 
glade  and  called  her  neighbors  to  assist  her.  These  were 
the  wives  of  woodsmen,  one  old  and  one  uglyc  There 
were  no  other  women  in  the  forest,  as  it  is  not  the  custom, 
nor  have  these  people  the  means,  to  take  their  families 
into  the  woods. 


The  Bagpipers.  147 

The  neighboring  lodges,  six  in  number,  held  about  a 
dozen  men,  who  were  beginning  to  assemble  on  a  pile  of 
fagots  to  Slip  in  each  other's  compan}'  on  their  frugal  bit 
of  lard  and  rye  bread  ;  but  the  Head- Woodsman,  going  up 
to  them  before  he  went  to  his  own  lodge  to  put  away  his 
tools  and  his  leathern  apron,  said,  in  his  kind  and  manly 
way  :  "  Brothers,  I  have  a  party  of  strangers  with  me  to- 
da}',  whom  I  shall  not  condemn  to  follow  our  customs. 
But  it  shall  never  be  said  that  roast  meat  is  eaten  and  the 
wine  of  Sancerre  served  in  the  lodge  of  the  Head-Woods- 
man when  his  friends  are  not  there  to  partake  with  him. 
Come,  therefore,  that  I  may  make  you  friendly  with  my 
guests  ;  those  of  you  who  refuse  will  give  me  pain." 

No  one  refused,  and  we  were  a  company  of  over  twen- 
ty, —  not  all  round  the  table,  for  these  folk  don't  care  for 
comfort,  but  seated,  some  on  stones,  some  on  the  grass, 
one  lying  on  his  back  among  the  shavings,  another 
perched  on  the  twisted  limb  of  a  tree  ;  and  all  —  saving 
the  matter  of  hoi}'  baptism  —  more  like  a  troop  of  wild 
boars  than  a  company  of  Christian  people. 

All  this  time  the  beautiful  Therence  seemed,  as  she 
came  and  went  about  her  duties,  not  a  whit  more  inclined 
to  take  notice  of  us  until  her  father,  who  had  called  to  her 
in  vain,  caught  her  as  she  passed,  and  leading  her  up  to 
us  against  her  will,  presented  her. 

"Please  excuse  her,  my  friends,"  he  said;  "she  is 
a  little  savage,  born  and  reared  in  the  woods.  She  is 
shy  and  bashful ;  but  she  will  get  over  it,  and  I  ask 
you,  Brulette,  "to  help  her  do  so,  for  she  improves  on 
acquaintance." 

Thereupon  Brulette,  who  was  neither  sh}'  nor  ill-hum- 
ored herself,  opened  both  arms  and  flung  them  round 
Therence's  neck ;  and  the  latter,  not  daring  to  forbid  her, 


148  The  Bagpipers, 

yet  unable  to  escape,  stood  stock-still  and  threw  up  her 
head,  lookhig  out  of  her  eyes,  which  had  hitherto  been 
glued  to  the  ground.  In  this  attitude,  so  near  each  other, 
eye  to  eye  and  almost  cheek  to  cheek,  the}-  made  me  think 
of  a  pair  of  3'oung  bulls,  one  of  which  butts  his  head  in 
play,  while  the  other,  distrustful  and  already  conscious 
of  horns,  awaits  the  moment  when  he  can  strike  him 
treacherous!}'. 

But  all  of  a  sudden  Therence  seemed  conquered  by 
Brulette's  soft  e3'es,  and  lowering  her  head  she  dropped  it 
on  the  other's  shoulder  to  hide  her  tears. 

*'  Well,  well !  "  said  Pere  Bastien,  teasing  and  caressing 
his  daughter,  "this  is  what  you  call  skittish!  I  never 
should  have  thought  a  girl's  shvness  would  bring  her  to 
tears.  Tr}-  to  understand  these  3'oung  things  if  3'ou  can ! 
Come,  Brulette,  3'ou  seem  the  more  reasonable  of  the  two ; 
take  her  awa}*,  and  don't  let  go  of  her  till  she  has  talked  to 
you.     It  is  only  the  first  word  that  costs." 

"Very  good,"  answered  Brulette.  "I  will  help  her, 
and  the  first  order  she  gives  me  I  will  obey  so  well  that 
she  will  forgive  me  for  having  frightened  her." 

As  the}'  went  off  together,  Pere  Bastien  said  to  mo  : 
"Just  see  what  women  are!  The  least  coquettish  of 
them  (and  m}^  Therence  is  of  that  kind)  cannot  come  face 
to  face  with  a  rival  in  beauty  without  getting  scarlet  witli 
anger  or  frozen  with  fear.  The  stars  live  contentedly  side 
b}'  side  in  the  sky,  but  when  two  daughters  of  Mother  Eve 
come  together  there  is  always  one  who  is  miserable  at  the 
comparison  that  can  be  made  between  them." 

"  I  think,  father,  that  you  are  not  doing  justice  to  The- 
rence in  sa3ing  that,"  observed  Huriel.  "  She  is  neither 
sh}'  nor  envious."  Then  lowering  Iris  voice,  "I  think  I 
know  what  grieves  her,  but  it  is  best  to  paj-  no  attention." 


■The  Bagpipers.  149 

They  brought  in  the  broiled  meat,  with  some  fine  3-cllow 
mushrooms,  which  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  taste, 
though  I  saw  eyer3'bod3'  else  eat  them  fearlessly  ;  then 
came  eggs  fricasseed  with  all  sorts  of  strong  herbs,  buck- 
wheat cakes,  and  the  Chamberat  cheeses  w^hich  are  famous 
everywhere.  All  the  laborers  junketed  to  their  heart's 
content,  but  in  a  ver}-  different  wa}'  from  ours.  Instead 
of  taking  their  time  and  chewing  each  morsel,  they  swal- 
lowed the  food  whole  like  famished  creatures,  a  thing  that 
is  not  considered  at  all  proper  with  us  ;  in  fact,  the}'  could 
not  wait  to  be  through  eating  before  they  began  to  sing 
and  dance  in  the  very  middle  of  the  feast. 

These  men,  whose  blood  is  not  as  cool  as  ours,  seemed  to 
me  unable  to  keep  still  a  moment.  The}'  would  not  wait 
till  the  dishes  were  passed  round,  but  carried  up  their 
slices  of  bread  to  hold  the  stew,  refusing  plates,  and  then 
returned  to  their  perch  in  the  trees  or  their  bed  in  the 
sawdust.  Some  ate  standing,  others  talking  and  gesticu- 
lating, each  telling  his  own  tale  and  singing  his  own  song. 
They  were  like  bees  buzzing  about  the  hive  ;  it  made  me 
giddy,  and  I  felt  I  was  not  enjoying  the  feast  at  all. 

Although  the  wine  was  good  and  tlie  Head- Woodsman 
did  not  spare  it,  no  one  took  more  than  was  good  for  hiui ; 
for  each  man  had  his  work  to  do  and  would  not  let  him- 
self be  unfitted  for  the  labor  of  the  morrow.  So  the  feast 
was  short,  and,  although  at  one  time  it  seemed  to  me  to 
be  getting  rather  boisterous,  still  it  ended  early  and  peace- 
fulh'.  The  Head-Woodsman  received  many  compliments 
for  his  hospitalit}',  and  it  was  quite  plain  that  he  had  a 
natural  control  over  the  whole  band,  not  so  much  hy  any 
method  as  b}'  the  influence  of  his  kind  heart  and  his  wise 
head. 

We  received  many  assurances  of  friendship  and  offers 


150  The  Bagpipers, 

of  service  ;  and  I  must  admit  that  the  people  were  heartier 
and  readier  to  oblige  than  we  are  in  our  part  of  the  coun- 
tvy.  I  noticed  that  liuriel  took  them  up,  one  after  the 
other,  to  Brulette,  and  presented  each  \)y  name,  telling 
them  to  regard  her  as  neither  more  nor  less  than  his  sister  ; 
whereupon  she  received  so  many  salutations  and  civilities 
that  she  had  never,  even  in  her  own  village,  been  so  courted. 
AVhen  night  came  the  Head- Woodsman  offered  to  share 
his  cabin  with  me.  Joseph's  lodge  was  next  to  ours,  but 
it  was  smaller,  and  I  sliould  have  been  mucli  cramped. 
So  I  followed  my  host,  —  all  the  more  willingly  because  1 
was  charged  to  watch  over  Brulette's  safet}' ;  but  I  soon 
saw  that  she  ran  no  risk,  for  she  shared  the  bed  of  the 
beautiful  Therence,  and  the  muleteer,  faithful  to  his  usual 
habits,  had  already  stretched  himself  on  the  ground  out- 
side the  door,  so  that  neither  wolf  nor  thief  could  get  an 
entrance. 

Casting  a  glance  into  the  little  room  where  the  two  girls 
were  to  sleep,  I  saw  it  contained  a  bed  and  a  few  ver}'  de- 
cent articles  of  furniture.  Huriel,  tlianks  to  his  mules, 
was  able  to  transport  his  sister's  household  belongings 
very  easily  and  without  expense.  Those  of  his  father 
gave  little  trouble,  for  they  consisted  solel}'  of  a  heap  of 
dry  fern  and  a  coverlet.  Indeed,  the  Head-Woodsman 
thought  even  that  too  much,  and  would  have  preferred 
to  sleep  under  the  stars,  like  his  son. 

I  was  tired  enough  to  do  witliout  a  bed,  and  I  slept 
soundly  till  daylight.  I  thought  Brulette  did  the  same, 
for  I  heard  no  sound  behind  the  plank  partition  which 
separated  us.  When  I  rose  the  Woodsman  and  his  son 
were  alread}^  up  and  consulting  together. 

"  We  were  speaking  of  you,"  said  the  father ;  "  and  as 
we  must  go  to  our  work,  I  should  like  the  matter  I  was 


The  Bagpipers.  151 

talking  of  to  be  settled  now.  I  have  explained  to  Bru- 
lette  that  Joseph  needs  her  company  for  some  time  yet, 
and  she  has  promised  to  stay  a  week  at  least ;  but  she 
could  not  speak  for  you,  and  has  asked  us  to  beg  3'ou  to 
stay.  We  hope  you  will  do  so,  assuring  you  that  it  will 
give  us  pleasure ;  3'Ou  will  not  be  a  burden  on  us  ;  and 
we  beg  3"ou  to  act  with  us  as  freel^^  as  we  would  with  you 
if  occasion  demanded." 

This  was  said  with  such  an  air  of  sincerit}^  and  friend- 
ship that  I  could  not  refuse  ;  and  indeed,  as  it  was  impos- 
sible to  abandon  Brulette  to  the  company  of  strangers,  I 
was  obliged  to  give  in  to  her  wishes  and  Joseph's  interests, 
though  eight  days  seemed  to  me  rather  long. 

"Thank  you,  my  kind  Tiennet,"  said  Brulette,  coming 
out  of  Therence's  room  ;  "  and  I  thank  these  good  people 
who  have  given  me  such  a  kind  reception  ;  but  if  I  stay, 
it  must  be  on  condition  that  no  expense  is  incurred  for 
us,  and  that  we  shall  be  allowed  to  provide  for  ourselves 
as  we  intended  to  do." 

"  It  shall  be  just  as  3'ou  like,"  said  Huriel ;  "for  if  the 
fear  of  being  a  burden  on  us  drives  3'OU  awa3',  we  would 
rather  renounce  the  pleasure  of  serving  you.  But  re- 
member one  thing ;  m3'  father  and  I  both  earn  mone3'', 
and  nothing  gives  either  of  us  so  much  pleasure  as  to 
oblige  our  friends  and  show  them  hospitalitv." 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Huriel  was  rather  fond  of  jingling 
his  mone3\  as  if  to  sa3',  "  I  am  a  good  match."  However, 
he  immediatel3'  acted  like  a  man  who  sets  himself  aside, 
for  he  told  us  that  he  was  about  to  start  on  a  journe3'. 

When  she  heard  that  Brulette  gave  a  little  quiver, 
whicli  nobody  noticed  but  me,  for  slie  recovered  instantly 
and  asked,  apparently  with  indilTerence,  where  he  was 
going   and  for  how  long. 


152  The  Bagpipers, 

"I  am  going  to  work  in  the  woods  of  La  Roche,"  he 
replied;  "I  shall  be  near  enough  to  come  back  if  3'ou 
send  for  me  ;  Tienuet  knows  the  way.  I  am  going  now, 
in  the  first  instance,  to  the  moor  round  La  Croze  to  get 
my  mules  and  their  trappings.  1  will  stop  as  I  come 
back  and  bid  you  good-bj'e." 

Thereupon  he  departed,  and  the  Head- Woodsman,  en- 
joining on  his  daughter  to  take  good  care  of  us,  went  off 
to  his  work  in  another  direction. 

So  there  we  were,  Brulette  and  I,  in  company  of  the 
beautiful  Therence,  who,  though  she  waited  on  us  as 
actively  as  if  we  were  pa3ing  her  wages,  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  be  friendly,  and  answered  shortl}-,  yes  or  no, 
to  all  we  said  to  her.  This  coolness  soon  anno3'ed  Bru- 
lette, who  said  to  me,  when  we  were  alone  for  a  moment, 
''I  think,  Tiennet,  that  this  girl  is  displeased  with  us. 
She  took  me  into  her  bed  last  night  as  if  she  were  forced 
to  receive  a  porcupine.  She  flung  herself  on  the  farther 
edge  with  her  nose  to  the  wall,  and  except  when  she 
asked  if  T  wanted  more  bedclothes,  she  would  not  say  a 
word  to  me.  I  was  so  tired  I  would  gladlv'  have  gone  to 
sleep  at  once  ;  indeed,  seeing  that  she  pretended  to  sleep, 
to  avoid  speaking  to  me,  I  pretended  too ;  but  I  could 
not  close  ni}'  eyes  for  a  long,  long  time,  for  I  heard  her 
choking  down  her  sobs.  If  you  will  consent,  we  will  not 
trouble  her  any  longer ;  we  can  find  plenty  of  empt\^  huts 
in  the  forest,  and  if  not,  I  could  arrange  with  an  old 
woman  I  saw  here  3'esterday  to  send  her  husband  to  a 
neighbor  and  take  us  in.  If  it  is  onh'  a  grass  bed  I  shall 
be  content ;  it  costs  too  much  to  sleep  on  a  mattress  if 
tears  are  to  pay  for  it.  As  for  our  meals,  I  suppose  that 
you  can  go  to  Mesples  and  buy  all  we  want,  and  I  '11  take 
charj^e  of  the  cookini:;." 


The  Bagpipers.  153 

"  That's  all  right,  Brulette,"  I  answered,  "  and  I  '11  do 
as  3'ou  sa^'.  Look  for  a  lodging  for  yourself,  and  don't 
trouble  about  me.  I  am  not  sugar  nor  salt  an}'  more  than 
the  muleteer  who  slept  at  3'our  door  last  night.  1  '11  do 
for  3'ou  as  he  did,  without  fearing  that  the  dew  will  melt 
me.  However,  listen  to  this  :  if  we  quit  the  Woodsman's 
lodge  and  table  in  this  way  he  will  think  we  are  angry, 
and  as  he  has  treated  us  too  well  to  have  given  any  cause 
for  it  himself,  he  will  see  at  once  that  his  daughter  has 
rebuffed  us.  Perhaps  he  will  scold  her ;  and  that  might 
not  be  just.  You  say  the  girl  did  all  she  could,  and  was 
even  submissive  to  3'ou.  Now,  suppose  she  has  some 
hidden  trouble,  have  we  the  right  to  complain  of  her 
silence  and  her  sobs  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  take  no 
notice,  and  to  leave  her  free  all  day  to  go  and  meet  her 
lover,  if  she  has  one,  and  spend  our  own  time  with  Jose, 
for  whose  sake  alone  we  came  here  ?  Are  not  3'Ou  rather 
afraid  that  if  we  look  for  a  place  to  live  apart  in,  people 
ma3'^  fanc3'  we  have  some  evil  motive  ?  '* 

''  You  are  right,  Tiennet,"  said  Brulette.  ''  Well,  I  '11 
have  patience  with  that  tall  sulk3'  girl,  and  let  her  come 
and  go  as  she  likes." 


154  The  Bagpipers, 


FOURTEENTH    EVENING. 

The  beautiful  Therence  had  prepared  everything  for  our 
breakfast,  and  seeing  that  the  sun  was  getting  up  she 
asked  Brulette  if  she  had  thought  of  waking  Joseph.  "  It 
is  time,"  she  said,  "  and  he  does  not  Uke  it  if  I  let  him 
sleep  too  late,  because  the  next  night  it  keeps  him 
wakeful." 

"  If  you  are  accustomed  to  wake  Mm,  dear,"  answered 
Brulette,  ''  please  do  so  now.  I  don't  know  what  his 
habits  are." 

"No,"  said  Therence,  curtl}',  "it  is  3'our  business  to 
take  care  of  him  now ;  that  is  what  you  have  come  for. 
I  shall  give  up  and  take  a  rest,  and  leave  you  in  charge." 

"  Poor  Jose  !  "  Brulette  could  not  help  exclaiming.  "  I 
see  he  has  been  a  great  care  to  you,  and  that  he  had  bet- 
ter go  back  with  us  to  his  own  countr}^" 

Therence  turned  her  back  without  replying,  and  I  said 
to  Brulette,  "Let  us  both  go  and  call  him.  I'll  bet  he 
will  be  glad  to  hear  your  voice  first." 

Jose's  lodge  joined  that  of  the  Head- Woodsman.  As 
soon  as  he  heard  Brulette'r.  voice  he  came  running  to  tlie 
door,  crying  out:  "Ah!  I  feared  I  was  dreaming,  Bru- 
lette; then  it  is  reall}^  tr  i>e  that  3'ou  are  here?" 

When  he  was  seated  beside  us  on  the  logs  he  told  us 
that  for  the  first  time  in  man}'  montlis  he  had  slept  all 
night  in  one  gulp  ;  in  fact,  we  could  see  it  on  his  face, 
which  was  ten  sous  better  than  it  was  the  night  before. 
Therence  brought  him  some  chicken-broth  in  a  porringer, 


The  Bagpipers.  155 

and  he  v/anted  to  give  it  to  Brnlette,  who  refused  to  take 
it,  —  all  the  more  because  the  black  eyes  of  the  girl  of  the 
woods  bLiZv>d  with  anger  at  Jose's  offer. 

Brulette,  \Yho  was  too  shrewd  to  give  any  ground  for 
the  girl's  vexation,  declined,  sa3ing  that  she  did  not  like 
broth  and  it  would  be  a  great  pity  to  waste  it  upon  her, 
adding,  "  I  see,  m}'  lad,  that  you  are  cared  for  like  a 
bourgeois,  and  that  these  kind  people  spare  nothing  for 
your  comfort  and  recover}'." 

"Yes,"  said  Jose,  taking  Therence's  hand  and  joining 
it  in  his  with  that  of  Brulette,  "I  have  been  a  great  ex- 
pense to  my  master  (he  always  called  the  Woodsman  b}' 
that  title,  because  he  had  taught  him  music).  Brulette,  I 
must  tell  3'ou  that  I  have  found  another  angel  upon  earth 
beside  j-ou.  Just  as  3'ou  helped  my  mind  and  consoled 
ni}'  heart  when  I  was  half  an  idiot  and  well-nigh  good  for 
nothing,  so  she  has  cared  for  my  poor  suffering  body  when 
I  fell  ill  wdth  fever  here.  I  can  never  thank  her  as  I 
ought  for  all  she.)  has  done  for  me ;  but  I  can  sa}'  one 
thing,  — there  's  not  a  third  like  3'ou  two  ;  and  in  the  da}'  of 
recompense  the  good  God  will  .grant  his  choicest  crowns 
to  Catherine  Brulet,  the  rose  of  Berr}',  and  to  Therence 
Huriel,  the  sweet-briar  of  the  woods." 

It  seemed  as  if  Joseph's  gentle  words  poured  a  balm  into 
the  girl's  blood,  for  Therence  no  longer  refused  to  sit  down 
and  eat  with  us  ;  and  Joseph  sa^  between  the  two  beauties, 
while  I,  profiting  by  the  easy  wa3's  I  had  noticed  the  night 
before,  walked  about  as  I  ate,  ar  1  sat  sometimes  near  one 
and  sometimes  near  the  other. 

I  did  my  best  to  please  the  woodland  lass  with  m3'  at- 
tentions, and  I  made  it  a  point  of  honor  'to  show  her  that 
we  Berrichons  were  not  bears.  She  answered  m3''  civilities 
ver}'  gentl3',  but  I  could  not  make  her  raise  her  eyes  to 


156  Tlie  Bagpqjcrs. 

mine  all  the  time  we  were  talking.  She  seemed  to  me  to 
have  an  odd  temper,  quick  to  take  offence  and  full  of  dis- 
trust. And  3'et,  when  she  was  tranquil,  there  was  some- 
thing so  good  in  her  expression  and  in  her  voice  that  it 
was  impossible  to  take  a  bad  idea  of  her.  But  neither  in 
her  good  moments  nor  at  an}^  other  time  did  I  dare  ask 
her  if  she  remembered  that  I  had  carried  her  in  mj  arms 
and  that  she  had  rewarded  me  with  a  kiss.  I  was  ver^'  sure 
it  was  she,  for  her  father,  to  whom  I  had  alread}^  spoken, 
had  not  forgotten  the  circumstance,  and  declared  he  had 
recalled  my  face  without  knowing  where  he  had  seen  it. 

During  breakfast  Brulette,  as  she  told  me  afterwards, 
began  to  have  an  inkling  of  a  certain  matter,  and  she  at 
once  took  it  into  her  head  to  watch  and  keep  quiet  so  as 
to  get  at  the  bottom  of  it. 

"Now,"  said  she,  "do  3'ou  suppose  I  am  going  to  sit 
all  day  with  my  arms  folded?  Without  being  a  hard 
worker,  I  don't  sa}^  m}^  beads  from  one  meal  to  another, 
and  I  beg  of  you,  Therence,  to  give  me  some  work  by 
which  I  can  help  3'ou." 

"  I  don't  want  any  help,  "  replied  Therence  ;  "  and  as 
for  you,  you  don't  need  any  work  to  occupy  you." 

"  Wh}^  not,  my  dear?  " 

"Because  you  have  your  friend,  and  as  I  should  be  in 
the  way  when  you  talk  with  him  I  shall  go  away  if  you 
wish  to  stay  here,  or  I  shall  stay  here  if  you  wish  to  go 
awa}'." 

"  That  won't  please  either  Jose  or  me,"  said  Brulette, 
rather  maUciously.  "  I  have  no  secrets  to  tell  him  ;  all 
that  we  had  to  say  to  each  other  we  said  yesterda3\  And 
now  the  pleasure  we  take  in  each  other's  company  will 
only  be  increased  if  you  are  with  us,  and  we  beg  you  to 
stay  —  unless  you  have  some  one  you  prefer  to  us." 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  157 

Therence  seemed  undecided,  and  the  way  she  looked  at 
Joseph  showed  Brulette  that  her  pride  suffered  from  the 
fear  of  being  in  the  \f^y.  Whereupon  Brulette  said  to 
Joseph,  ''Help  me  to  keep  her!  You  want  her,  don't 
3'ou?  Didn't  3'ou  say  just  now  that  we  were  your  two 
guardian  angels?  Don't  you  want  us  to  work  together 
for  your  recovery- ?" 

"You  are  right,  Brulette,"  said  Joseph.  "Between 
two  such  kind  hearts  I  shall  get  well  quickly  ;  and  if  you 
both  love  me  I  think  each  will  love  me  better, — just  as 
we  do  a  task  better  with  a  good  comrade  who  gives  us  his 
streno-th  and  doubles  ours." 

"And  3'ou  think  it  is  I,"  said  Therence,  "whom  ^-our 
compatriot  needs  as  a  companion?  Well,  so  be  it!  I'll 
fetch  my  work  and  do  it  here." 

She  brought  some  linen  cut  out  for  a  shirt,  and  began 
to  sew.  Brulette  wanted  to  help  her,  and  when  Therence 
refused  she  said  to  Joseph,  "  Then  bring  me  your  clothes 
to  mend  ;  they  must  be  in  need  of  it  by  this  time." 

Therence  let  her  look  through  Joseph's  v/hole  wardrobe 
without  saj'ing  a  word ;  but  there  was  neither  a  hole  to 
mend  nor  a  button  to  sew  on,  so  well  had  they  been  cared 
for ;  and  Brulette  talked  of  buying  linen  the  next  day  at 
Me§ples  to  make  him  some  new  shirts.  Then  it  appeared 
that  those  Therence  was  making  were  for  Joseph,  and  tliat 
she  wanted  to  finish  them,  as  she  had  begun  them,  all  b}' 
herself.  Sus[  ici  n\  grew  stronger  and  stronger  in  Bru- 
lette's  mind,  and  she  pretended  to  insist  on  sharing  the 
work ;  even  Joseph  was  obliged  to  put  in  a  word,  for  he 
thought  that  Brulette  would  feel  dull  if  she  had  nothing  to 
do.  On  that,  Therence  flung  down  her  work  angrilj',  saj^- 
ing  to  Brulette  :  "Finish  them  3'ourself!  I  won't  touch 
them  again !  "  and  off  she  went  to  sulk  in  the  house. 


158  Tlie  Bagp'pers. 

*' Jose,"  said  Brulette,  "that  girl  is  neither  capricious 
nor  craz}',  as  I  first  thouglit  she  was.     She  is  in  love  with 

you." 

Joseph  was  so  overcome  that  Brulette  saw  she  had  said 
too  much.  She  did  not  understand  that  a  sick  man,  ill  in 
bod}'  from  the  action  of  his  mind,  fears  reflection. 

"  Why  do  3'ou  tell  me  so  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  what  new  mis- 
fortune is  to  come  upon  me  ?  " 

"  Why  is  it  a  misfortune?  " 

"  Do  3'OU  ask  me  that,  Brulette?  Do  you  think  I  could 
ever  return  her  feelings?" 

"Well,"  said  Brulette,  trying  to  pacify  him,  "  she  will 
get  over  it." 

"  1  don't  know  that  people  ever  get  over  love,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  but  if,  through  ignorance  and  want  of  precaution 
I  have  done  any  harm  to  the  daughter  of  iw\  master,  and 
Iluriefs  sister,  the  virgin  of  the  woods,  who  has  prayed  to 
God  for  me  and  watched  over  my  life,  I  am  so  guilty  that 
I  can  never  forgive  m3'self." 

"Did  not  3'ou  ever  think  that  her  friendship  might 
change  to  love?" 

"No,  Brulette,  never." 

"  That 's  curious,  Jose." 

"Why  so?  Have  not  I  been  accustomed  from  my 
3'outh  up  to  be  pitied  for  m3'  stupidity  and  helped  in  ni}- 
weakness?  Did  the  friendship  3'ou  have  shown  me,  Bru- 
lette, ever  make  me  vain  enough  to  believe  that  you  —  " 
Here  Joseph  became  as  red  as  fire,  and  did  not  say 
another  word. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Brulette,  who  was  prudent  and 
judicious  just  as  Therence  was  quick  and  sensitive.  "  We 
can  easil3''  make  mistakes  about  the  feelings  which  we  give 
and  receive.     I  had  a  silly  idea  about  the  girl,  but  if  you 


TJic  Bagpipers.  159 

don't  share  it  there  can  be  nothing  in  it.  Therence  is,  no 
doubt,  just  as  I  am,  ignorant  of  what  they  call  true  love, 
and  waits  the  time  when  the  good  God  will  put  it  into  her 
head  to  live  for  the  man  he  has  chosen  for  her." 

*'A11  the  same,"  said  Joseph,  "I  wish  to  leave  this 
part  of  the  country  and  I  ought  to." 

"  We  came  to  take  3'ou  back,"  I  said,  "  as  soon  as  you 
feel  strong  enough  to  go." 

Contrar}'  to  my  expectation,  he  rejected  the  idea  vehe- 
mentl}'.  "No,  no,"  he  said,  "I  have  but  one  power, 
and  that  is  my  force  of  will  to  be  a  great  musician ;  I 
want  to  have  my  mother  with  me,  and  live  honored  and 
courted  in  m}-  own  country.  If  I  quit  these  parts  now  I 
shall  go  to  the  Upper  Bourbonnais  till  I  am  admitted  into 
the  fraternity  of  bagpipers." 

We  dared  not  tell  him  that  we  feared  he  would  never 
have  sound  lungs. 

Brulette  talked  to  him  of  other  things,  while  I,  much 
occupied  with  the  revelation  she  had  made  about  Therence, 
and  indeed  anxious  about  the  girl,  who  had  just  left  her 
lodge  and  plunged  into  the  woods,  started  in  the  same 
direction,  with  no  apparent  object,  but  feeling  curious  and 
very  desirous  of  meeting  her.  It  was  not  \Qvy  long  before 
I  heard  the  sound  of  choking  sighs,  which  let  me  know 
where  she  was  hiding.  No  longer  feeling  shy  of  her  when 
I  knew  she  was  in  trouble,  I  went  forward  and  spoke  to 
her  resolutel3\ 

"Therence,"  I  said,  observing  that  she  did  not  weep, 
and  only  quivered  and  choked  with  repressed  anger, 
"  I  think  m}^  cousin  and  I  are  the  cause  of  your  annoy- 
ance. Our  coming  displeases  you ;  or  rather,  Brulette 
does,  for  I  myself  can  claim  no  attention.  We  were 
speaking  of  3'ou  this  morning,  she  and  I,  and  I  prevented 


160  Tlie  Bagpipers. 

lier  from  leaving  your  lodge,  where  she  thought  she  was  a 
burden  to  3'ou.  Now  please  sa}^  frankh'  if  we  are,  and 
we  will  go  elsewhere  ;  for  though  3'ou  may  have  a  low 
opinion  of  us,  we  are  none  the  less  right-minded  towards 
you   and  fearful  of  causing   you  anno^'ance." 

The  proud  girl  seemed  offended  b}"  my  frankness ; 
she  got  up  from  her  seat,  for  I  had  placed  m3'self  near 
her. 

"  Your  cousin  wants  to  go,  does  she?"  she  said,  with  a 
threatening  air;  "she  wants  to  shame  me?  No,  she 
shall  not  do  it !  or  else  —  " 

"Or  else  what?"  I  asked,  determined  to  make  her 
confess  her  feelings. 

"  Or  else  I  will  leave  the  woods,  and  nxy  father  and 
famil}',  and  go  and  die  in  the  desert." 

She  spoke  feverishly,  with  so  gloom}^  an  ej'e  and  so 
pale  a  face,  that  I  was  frightened. 

"Therence,"  I  said  taking  her  very  kindly  by  the  hand 
and  making  her  sit  down  again,  "  either  you  were  born 
without  a  sense  of  justice  or  3'Ou  have  some  reason  for 
hating  Brulette.  If  so,  tell  me  what  it  is ;  for  it  is  pos- 
sible I  could  clear  her  of  the  blame  3'ou  put  upon  her." 

"  No,  3'Ou  can't  clear  her,  for  I  know  her,"  cried 
Therence,  no  longer  controlling  herself.  "  Don't  think 
that  I  know  noticing  about  her !  I  have  thought  enough 
and  questioned  Joseph  and  my  brother  enough  to  be  able 
to  judge  her  conduct  and  to  know  what  an  ungrateful 
heart  and  deceitful  nature  hers  is.  She  is  a  flirt,  that's 
what  she  is,  3^our  compatriot !  and  all  honest  girls  ought 
to  hate  her." 

"  That's  a  hard  thing  to  say,"  I  replied,  without  seem- 
ing troubled.     "  What  do  you  base  it  on  ?  " 

"Doesn't  she  know,"  cried  Therence,  "that  here  are 


TJie  Bag2n2:)ers.  IGl 

three  young  men  in  love  with  her?  and  she  is  tricking  all 
of  them,  —  Joseph,  who  is  dying  of  it ;  my  brother,  who 
is  now  avoiding  her ;  and  3'ou,  who  are  trying  to  cure 
yourself.  Do  j'ou  mean  to  tell  me  that  she  does  not 
know  all  this  ;  or  that  she  has  the  slightest  preference  for 
any  one  of  you  ?  No ;  she  has  no  preference  for  any 
one;  she  pities  Joseph,  she  esteems  m^^  brother,  and  she 
does  not  love  you.  Your  pangs  amuse  her,  and  as  she 
has  fifty  other  lovers  in  her  own  village,  she  pretends  she 
lives  for  all  and  not  for  one.  Well,  I  don't  care  for  you, 
Tiennet,  for  I  don't  know  j'ou ;  but  as  for  my  brother, 
who  is  so  often  obliged  to  be  awaj-  from  us,  and  goes  away 
now  to  escape  her  when  he  might  really  stay  at  home ; 
and  as  for  poor  Joseph,  who  is  ill  and  partly  crazy  for 
her —  Ah!  your  Brulette  is  a  guilty  creature  towards 
both,  and  ought  to  blush  for  not  being  able  to  say  a 
tender  word  to  either  of  them." 

Just  then  Brulette,  who  overheard  her,  came  forward. 
Though  quite  unaccustomed  to  be  spoken  of  in  that  w^ay, 
she  was  doubtless  well-pleased  to  know  the  motive  of 
Iluriel's  absence,  and  she  seated  herself  by  Therence  and 
took  her  hand  wath  a  serious  air  which  was  half  pity  and 
half  reproach.  Therence  was  a  little  pacified,  and  said, 
in  a  gentler  tone :  — 

*' Excuse  me,  Brulette,  if  I  have  pained  3'Ou  ;  but,  in- 
deed, I  shall  not  blame  myself,  if  it  brings  3'ou  to  better 
feelings.  Come,  admit  that  3'our  conduct  is  treacherous 
and  your  heart  hard.  I  don't  know  if  it  is  the  custom  in 
3'our  country  to  let  men  wish  for  j'Ou  when  3'ou  intend 
onlv  to  refuse  them  ;  but  I,  a  poor  girl  of  the  woods, 
think  such  lies  criminal,  and  I  cannot  comprehend  such 
behavior.  Open  3-onr  e3'es,  and  see  the  harm  3'ou  are 
doing !     I  don't   sa}-  that   my  brother  will   break   down 

II 


162  The  Bagpipers. 

under  it,  because  he  is  too  strong  and  too  courageous  a 
man,  and  there  are  too  many  girls,  worth  more  than  you, 
who  love  him,  among  whom  he  will  make  his  choice 
one  of  these  da^ys ;  but  have  pity  upon  poor  Jose,  Bru- 
lette !  You  don't  know  him,  though  you  have  been 
brought  up  with  him.  You  thought  him  half  an  imbecile  ; 
on  the  contrary  he  has  a  great  genius,  but  his  bod}^  is 
feeble  and  cannot  bear  up  under  the  grief  you  persist  in 
causing  him.  Give  him  your  heart,  for  he  deserves  it ; 
it  is  I  who  entreat  you,  and  who  will  curse  you.  if  you 
kill  him." 

*'  Do  3'ou  really  mean  what  you  are  sajing  to  me,  my 
poor  Therence  ?  "  answered  Brulette,  looking  her  straight 
in  the  eye.  "If  3'ou  want  to  know  what  I  think,  it  is 
that  you  love  Joseph,  and  that  I  cause  3'ou,  in  spite  of 
myself,  a  bitter  jealousy,  which  leads  you  to  impute  this 
wrong-doing  to  me.  Well,  look  at  the  matter  as  it  is  ;  I 
don't  want  to  make  Jose  love  me  ;  I  never  thought  of  doing 
so,  and  I  am  sorry  he  does.  I  even  long  to  help  you  to 
cure  him  of  it ;  and  if  I  had  known  what  you  have  now  let 
me  see,  I  would  never  have  come  here,  though  3'our 
brother  did  tell  me  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  do  so." 

"Brulette,"  said  Therence,  "3'ou  must  think  I  have  no 
pride  if  3'ou  suppose  that  I  lu\  e  Joseph  in  the  wa}^  you 
mean,  and  that  I  condescend  to  be  jealous  of  3'our  charms. 
I  have  no  nee  1  to  be  ashamed  before  an3^  one  of  the  sort 
of  love  I  feel  for  him.  If  it  were  as  3'ou  suppose,  I  should 
at  least  have  sufficient  pride  not  to  let  3'ou  think  I  would 
dispute  him  with  3'ou.  But  m3^  friendship  for  him  is  so 
frank  that  I  dare  to  protect  him  openly  against  3'our 
wiles.  Love  him  truly,  and,  far  from  being  jealous,  I 
will  love  and  respect  you  ;  I  recognize  3'our  rights,  which 
are  older  than  mine,  and  I  will  help  3'ou  to  take  him  back 


The  Bag2npers.  163 

into  3'onr  own  conntiy,  on  condition  that  you  will  choose 
him  for  yoxir  sole  lover  and  husband.  Otherwise,  you 
ma}''  expect  in  me  an  enemy,  who  will  hold  you  up  to 
condemnation  openh'.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  I  loved 
the  poor  lad  and  nursed  him  in  illness  only  to  see  a  village 
flirt  kill  him  before  my  very  eyes." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Brulette,  who  had  recovered  all  her 
native  pride,  ''  I  see  more  plainl}'  than  ever  that  3'ou  are 
in  love  with  him  and  jealous  ;  and  I  feel  all  the  more  satis- 
fied to  go  away  and  leave  him  to  your  care.  That  youv 
attachment  to  him  is  honest  and  faithful  I  have  no  doubt ; 
and  I  have  no  reasons,  such  as  3'ou  have,  to  be  angry 
or  unjust.  Still  I  do  wonder  why  you  should  want  me 
to  remain  and  to  be  3-our  friend.  Your  sincerity  gives 
wa}"  there,  and  I  admit  that  I  should  like  to  know  the 
reason  why." 

''  The  reason,"  replied  Therence,  "  is  one  3'ou  give  3'our- 
self,  when  you  use  shameful  words  to  humiliate  me.  You 
have  just  said  that  I  am  lovesick  and  jealous  :  that 's  how 
3'Ou  explain  the  strength  and  the  kindness  of  my  feeling 
for  Joseph !  you  will,  no  doubt,  put  it  into  his  head,  and 
the  young  man,  who  owes  me  respect  and  gratitude,  will 
think  he  has  the  right  to  despise  me,  and  ridicule  me  in 
his  heart." 

"  There  3'ou  are  right,  Therence,"  said  Brulette,  whose 
heart  and  mind  were  both  too  just  not  to  respect  the 
pride  of  the  woodland  girl.  "I  ought  to  help  you  to 
keep  your  secret,  and  I  will.  I  don't  say  that  I  will 
help  you  to  the  extent  of  my  power  over  Joseph ;  3'our 
pride  would  take  offence  if  I  did,  and  I  fully  under- 
stand that  you  do  not  want  to  receive  his  regard  as  a 
faA'or  from  me.  But  I  beg  you  to  be  just,  to  reflect, 
and  even  to  give  me  some  good  advice,  which  I,  who  am 


ICi-  The  Bagpipers. 

weaker  and  more  humble  than  3'ou,  ask  of  3'ou  to  guide 
my  conscience." 

"Ask  it;  I  will  listen  to  .you,"  said  Therence,  pacified 
b}'  Brulette's  good  sense  and  submission. 

"You  must  first  know,"  said  the  latter,  "that  I  have 
never  had  an}'  love  for  Joseph ;  and  if  it  will  help  3'Ou,  I 
will  tell  you  wh}'." 

"  Tell  me  ;  I  want  to  know !  "  cried  Therence. 

"Well,  the  reason  is,"  continued  Brulette,  "that  he 
does  not  love  me  as  I  should  wish  to  be  loved.  I  have 
known  Joseph  from  a  babj^ ;  he  was  never  amiable  to  oth- 
ers until  he  came  to  live  here  ;  he  was  so  wrapped  up  in 
himself  that  I  considered  him  selfish.  I  am  now  willing  to 
believe  that  if  he  was  so  it  was  not  in  a  bad  sense ;  but 
after  the  conversation  which  he  and  I  had  together  3'es- 
terday  I  am  still  convinced  that  T  have  a  rival  in  his  heart 
that  would  soon  crush  me  if  I  were  his.  This  mistress 
whom  he  would  surely  prefer  to  his  wife  —  don't  deceive 
yourself,  Therence  —  is  music." 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  A^ery  thing,"  replied 
Therence,  after  reflecting  a  moment,  and  showing  b}'  her 
soothed  manner  that  she  would  rather  struggle  with  mu- 
sic for  Joseph's  heart,  than  with  the  prett}'  Brulette.  "Jo- 
seph," she  added,  "  is  often  in  a  state  in  which  I  have 
sometimes  seen  my  father, — when  the  pleasure  of  making 
music  is  so  great  that  they  are  not  conscious  of  anj'thing 
about  them  ;  but  ni}-  father  is  alwa3's  so  loving  and  lovable 
that  I  am  never  jealous  of  his  pleasure." 

"Well,  then,  Therence,"  said  Brulette,  "  let  us  hope  he 
will  make  Joseph  like  himself  and  worth}'  of  3'ou." 

"Of  me?  whj'  of  me  more  than  of  you?  God  is  my 
witness  that  I  am  not  thinking  of  m^'self  when  I  work 
and  pray  for  Joseph.     M3'  future  troubles  me  ver}'  little, 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  165 

Brulette  ;  I  don't  understand  wh}'  people  should  be  think- 
ing of  themselves  in  the  friendship  the}'  give  to  others." 

''  Then,"  said  Brulette,  "  3'ou  are  a  sort  of  saint,  dear 
Therence,  and  I  feel  I  am  not  worthy  of  you  ;  for  I  do 
think  about  myself,  and  a  great  deal,  too,  when  1  dream 
of  love  and  happiness.  Perhaps  3'ou  do  not  love  Joseph 
as  I  fancied  you  did ;  but,  however  that  ma}'  be,  I  ask 
3'ou  to  tell  me  how  I  had  better  behave  to  him.  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  that  if  I  take  all  hope  away  from  him  the  blow 
would  kill  him  ;  otherwise  3'ou  would  not  see  me  so  easy. 
But  he  is  ill,  that 's  ver}'  true ;  and  I  owe  him  great  con- 
sideration. Here  is  where  m}'  friendship  for  him  has  been 
lo3'al  and  sincere  ;  and  I  have  not  been  as  coquettish  as 
3'ou  think  for.  For  if  it  is  true  that  I  have,  as  you  sa}', 
fift}"  lovers  in  my  own  village,  what  advantage  or  amuse- 
ment would  it  be  to  me  to  follow  the  humblest  of  them  all 
into  these  woods?  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  I  deserve 
3'our  good-will  for  having,  as  it  seemed  right  to  do  so,  sac- 
rificed without  regret  my  livel}^  friends  to  bring  comfort  to 
a  poor  fellow  who  asked  for  m}''  remembrance." 

Therence,  understanding  at  last  that  she  was  wrong, 
threw  herself  into  Brulette's  arms,  without  making  an}" 
excuses,  but  showing  plainly  by  tears  and  kisses  that  she 
w^as  heartily  sorry. 

They  were  sitting  thus  together  when  Huriel,  followed 
by  his  mules,  preceded  by  his  dogs,  and  mounted  on  his 
little  horse,  appeared  at  the  end  of  the  path  where  we 
were.  He  came  to  bid  us  good-bye  ;  but  nothing  in  his  air 
or  manner  showed  the  grief  of  a  man  who  seeks  by  flight 
to  cure  a  hopeless  love.  He  seemed,  on  the  contrary, 
cheerful  and  content ;  and  Brulette  thought  that  Therence 
had  put  him  on  the  list  of  her  admirers  only  to  give  one 
reason  more,  good   or  bad,  for  her  vexation.     She  even 


166  The  Bagpipers. 

tried  to  make  him  tell  the  real  reason  for  his  departure ; 
and  when  he  pretended  that  it  was  pressing  business, 
which  Therence  denied,  urging  him  to  stay,  Brulette,  rather 
piqued  at  his  coolness,  reproached  him  with  getting  tired 
of  his  Berrichon  guests.  He  let  himself  be  teased  with- 
out making  any  change  in  his  plans ;  and  this  finally 
affronted  Brulette,  and  led  her  to  say,  — 

''As  I  may  never  see  you  again,  Maitre  Huriel,  don't 
3'ou  think  yon  had  better  return  me  the  little  token  which 
3'ou  wear  in  your  ear  though  it  does  not  belong  to  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  it  does,"  he  answered.  "It  belongs  to  me 
as  much  as  my  ear  belongs  to  my  head,  for  my  sister  gave 
it  to  me." 

"  Your  sister  could  not  have  given  you  what  is  either 
Joseph's  or  mine." 

"  M3'  sister  made  her  first  communion  just  as  3'ou  did, 
Brulette  ;  and  when  I  returned  3'our  jewel  to  Jose  she 
gave  me  hers.     Ask  her  if  that  is  n't  true." 

Therence  colored  high,  and  Huriel  laughed  in  his  beard. 
Brulette  thought  to  herself  that  the  most  deceived  of  the 
three  was  Joseph,  who  was  probabl3^  wearing  Therence's 
silver  heart  round  his  neck  as  a  souvenir,  while  the  mule- 
teer was  wearing  the  one  she  had  given  him.  She  was  re- 
solved not  to  allow  the  fraud,  so  she  said  to  Therence : 
"Dearest,  I  think  the  token  Jose  wears  will  bring  him 
happiness,  and  therefore  he  ought  to  keep  it ;  but  inas- 
much as  this  one  belongs  to  3'ou,  I  ask  you  to  get  it  back 
from  3'our  brother,  so  as  to  make  me  a  present  which  will 
be  extremel3'  precious  to  me  as  coming  from  3'OU." 

"  I  will  give  you  an3'thing  else  you  ask  of  me,"  replied 
Therence,  "  and  with  all  m3-  heart  too ;  but  this  thing  does 
not  belong  to  me.  What  is  given  is  given,  and  I  don't 
think  that  Huriel  would  be  willing  to  give  it  back." 


The  Bagpipers  167 

"I  will  do  so,"  said  Huriel,  quickly,  ''if  Brulette  re- 
quires it.     Do  you  demand  it?  "  he  added,  turning  to  her. 

"  Yes,"  said  Brulette,  who  could  not  back  down,  though 
she  regretted  her  whim  when  she  saw  the  hurt  look  of  the 
muleteer.  He  at  once  opened  his  earring  and  took  off  the 
token,  which  he  gave  to  Brulette,  sa3ing :  "Be  it  as  3'ou 
please.  I  should  be  consoled  for  the  loss  of  my  sister's 
gift  if  I  could  think  you  would  neither  give  it  away  nor 
exchange  it." 

"The  proof  that  I  will  do  neither,"  said  Brulette,  fas- 
tening it  on  Therence's  necklace,  "  is  that  I  give  it  to  her 
to  keep.  And  as  for  3'ou,  whose  ear  is  now  released  of 
its  weight,  j-ou  do  not  need  any  token  to  enable  me  to 
recognize  yow  when  you  come  again  into  our  parts." 

"That  is  very  handsome  of  3'ou  to  saj',"  replied  the 
muletoei- ;  "  but  as  I  only  did  my  dut}'  to  Joseph,  and  as 
you  now  know  all  that  you  need  to  know  to  make  him 
happy,  I  shall  not  meddle  an}'  further  in  his  affairs.  I 
suppose  you  will  take  him  home  with  you,  and  I  shall  have 
no  further  occasion  to  visit  3^our  countr}'.  Adieu,  there- 
fore, m3'  beautiful  Brulette  ;  I  foretell  all  the  blessings  you 
deserve,  and  I  leave  3"ou  now  with  m3'  family,  who  will 
serve  you  while  here  and  conduct  3'ou  home  whenever  3'ou 
may  wish  to  go." 

So  saying,  off  he  went,  singing  :  — 

"  One  mule,  two  mules,  three  mules, 
On  the  mountain,  don't  you  see  them  ? 
Hey,  the  devil  1  'tis  the  band." 

But  his  A'-oice  did  not  sound  as  steady  as  he  tried  to 
make  it ;  and  Brulette,  not  feeling  happ3'  and  wishing  to 
escape  the  searching  e3'es  of  Therence,  returned  with  us 
both  to  find  Joseph. 


168  The  Bagpipers. 


FIFTEENTH   EVENING. 

I  SHALL  not  give  joxx  the  history  of  all  the  daj's  that  we 
passed  in  the  forest.  The}'  differed  little  from  one 
another.  Joseph  grew  better  and  better,  and  Therence 
decided  that  it  was  wiser  not  to  destroy'  his  hopes,  sharing 
in  Brulette's  resolution  to  prevent  him  from  explaining 
his  feelings.  This  was  not  diflficolt  to  manage,  for  Joseph 
had  vowed  to  himself  that  be  would  not  declare  his  senti- 
ments till  the  moment  came  when  he  felt  worth}'  of  her 
notice.  Brulette  must  have  made  herself  very  seductive 
indeed  to  have  dragged  a  word  of  love  out  of  him. 
To  make  doubly  sure,  she  managed  to  avoid  ever  being 
alone  with  him ;  and  she  kept  Therence  so  cleverly  at 
her  side  that  the  woodland  nymph  began  to  understand 
that  she  was  really  not  deceiving  her  and  sincerely  wished 
that  she  should  manage  the  health  and  the  mind  of  the 
patient  in  all  things. 

These  three  young  people  did  not  weary  of  each  other's 
company.  Therence  sewed  for  Joseph,  and  Brulette, 
having  made  me  buy  her  a  white  handkerchief,  set  about 
scalloping  and  embroidering  it  for  Therence,  for  she  was 
very  clever  at  such  work,  and  it  was  really  marvellous 
that  a  country-girl  could  do  such  exquisitely  fine  stitches. 
She  even  declared  before  Joseph  and  me  that  she  was 
tired  of  sewing  and  taking  care  of  linen,  so  as  to  show 
that  she  did  not  work  for  him,  and  to  force  him  to  thank 
Therence,  who  was  doing  it  so  assiduously.  But  just  see 
how  ungrateful  men  can  be  when  their  minds  are  all  upset 


The  Bagpipers.  169 

by  a  woman  !  Joseph  liardly  lookeil  at  Therence's  fingers, 
employed  as  they  were  in  his  service ;  his  e^'es  were  fixed 
on  Brnlette's  pretty  hands,  and  3'ou  would  really  have 
thoug;ht  that  everv  time  she  drew  her  needle  he  counted 
each  stitch  as  a  moment  of  happiness. 

I  wondered  how  love  could  fill  his  mind  and  occupy?-  his 
whole  time,  without  his  ever  dreaming  of  making  any  use 
of  his  hands.  As  for  me,  I  tried  peeling  osier  and  making 
baskets,  or  plaiting  r3'e-straw  for  hats  and  bonnets,  but 
for  all  that,  at  the  end  of  forty-eight  hours  I  was  so  eaten 
up  with  ennui  that  I  was  fairly  ill.  Sunday  is  a  fine  tlnng, 
for  it  brings  a  rest  after  six  da3's'  toil,  but  seven  Sunda3's 
in  a  week  is  too  much  for  a  man  who  is  accustomed  to 
make  use  of  his  limbs.  I  might  not  have  realized  this  if 
either  of  the  girls  had  bestowed  any  notice  on  me  ;  indeed, 
the  beautiful  Therence,  with  her  great  e3'es  somewhat 
sunken  in  her  head  and  the  black  mole  at  the  corner  of 
her  mouth,  could  easil3'  have  turned  m3'  head  if  she  had 
wanted  to  ;  but  she  was  in  no  humor  to  think  of  anything 
but  her  one  idea.  She  talked  little  and  laughed  less,  and 
if  I  tried  the  slightest  joking  she  looked  at  me  with 
such  an  astonished  air  that  I  lost  all  courage  to  make 
an  explanation. 

So,  after  spending  three  or  four  days  in  fluttering  with 
this  tranquil  trio  round  the  lodges  and  sitting  with  them 
in  various  places  in  the  woods,  and  having  convinced 
m3'self  that  Brulette  was  quite  as  safe  in  this  countr3"  as 
in  our  own,  I  looked  about  me  for  something  to  do,  and 
finallv  asked  the  Head- Woodsman  to  allow  me  to  help 
him.  He  received  my  request  very  kindl3',  and  I  began 
to  get  much  amusement  out  of  his  compan3',  when,  un- 
fortunatel3^,  I  told  him  I  did  not  want  to  be  paid,  and  was 
chopping  wood  only  to  get  rid  of  the  time ;  on  which  his 


170  The  Bagpipers, 

kind  heart  no  longer  compelled  him  to  excuse  my  blun- 
ders, and  he  began  to  let  me  see  that  there  never  was  a 
more  exacting  man  than  he  in  the  matter  of  work.  As 
his  trade  was  not  mine  and  I  did  not  even  know  how  to 
use  his  tools,  I  provoked  him  by  m3'  awkwardness,  and 
I  soon  saw  that  he  could  scarcely  restrain  himself  from 
calling  me  a  blockhead  and  imbecile  ;  for  his  eyes  actually 
started  from  his  head  and  the  sweat  rolled  down  his  face. 

Not  wishing  to  quarrel  with  a  man  wdio  was  so  kind 
and  agreeable  in  other  ways,  I  found  employment  with 
the  saw^'ers,  and  they  were  satisfied  with  me.  But  dear 
me !  I  soon  learned  what  a  dull  thing  work  is  when  it 
is  nothing  but  an  exercise  for  the  bod}',  and  is  not  joined 
to  the  idea  of  profit  for  one's  self  or  others. 

Brulette  said  to  me  on  the  fourth  da}',  "  Tiennet,  I  see 
you  are  very  dull,  and  I  don't  den}-  that  I  am,  too ;  but 
to-morrow  is  Sunda}',  and  we  must  invent  some  kind  of 
amusement.  I  know  that  the  foresters  meet  in  a  prett}' 
place,  where  the  Head- Woodsman  plays  for  them  to  dance. 
Well,  let  us  bu}'  some  wine  and  provisions  and  give  them 
a  better  Sunda}'  than  usual,  and  so  do  honor  to  our  own 
country  among  tliese  strangers." 

I  did  as  Brulette  told  me,  and  the  next  day  we  assem- 
bled on  a  pretty  bit  of  grass  with  all  the  forest  workmen 
and  several  girls  and  women  of  the  neighborhood,  whom 
Therence  invited  for  a  dance.  The  Head-Woodsman 
piped  for  us.  His  daughter,  superb  in  her  Bourbonnais 
costume,  was  much  complimented,  which  made  no  change 
in  her  dignified  manner.  Jose,  quite  intoxicated  by  the 
charms  of  Brulette,  who  had  not  forgotten  to  bring  a  little 
finery  from  home,  and  who  bewitched  all  ej'cs  with  her 
pretty  face  and  her  dainty  wa3^s,  sat  looking  on  at  the 
dancing.     I  busied  myself  in  regaling  the  company  with 


The  Bagpipers.  171 

refreshments,  and  as  I  wished  to  do  things  in  good  st3'le,  I 
had  not  spared  the  money.  The  feast  cost  me  three  good 
silver  crowns  out  of  my  own  pocket,  but  I  never  regretted 
it,  for  the  company  were  pleased  with  m}'  hospitality. 
Everything  went  vrell,  and  tliey  all  said  that  within  the 
memory  of  man  the  woodland  folk  had  never  been  so  well 
entertained.  There  was  even  a  mendicant  friar,  who  hap- 
pened to  come  along,  and  who,  under  pretext  of  begging 
for  his  convent,  stuffed  his  stomach  as  full  and  drank  as 
much  as  any  woodchopper  of  them  all.  This  amused  me 
mightily,  though  it  was  at  m}^  expense,  for  it  was  the  first 
time  I  had  seen  a  Carmelite  drink,  and  I  had  always  heard 
tell  that  in  the  matter  of  crooking  their  elbows  they  were 
the  best  men  in  Christendom. 

I  was  just  re-fiUing  his  glass,  astonished  that  I  did  n't 
intoxicate  him,  when  the  dancers  fell  into  confusion  and 
a  great  uproar  arose.  I  went  out  of  the  little  arbor  which 
I  had  made,  and  where  I  received  the  thirsty  crowd,  to 
know  what  had  happened ;  and  there  I  saw  a  troop  of 
three  or  perhaps  four  hundred  mules  following  a  clairiti 
which  had  taken  it  into  its  head  to  go  through  the  as- 
sembly', and  was  being  pushed,  and  kicked,  and  fright- 
ened, till  it  darted  right  and  left  among  the  people  ;  while 
the  mules,  who  are  obstinate  beasts,  very  strong-boned 
and  accustomed  to  follow  the  clairin,  pressed  on  through 
the  dancers,  caring  little  for  blows  and  kicks,  jostling 
those  in  their  wa}',  and  behaving  as  if  they  were  in  a  field 
of  thistles.  The  animals  did  not  go  so  fast,  laden  as  they 
were,  but  what  the  people  had  time  to  get  out  of  their 
wa}'.  No  one  was  hurt,  but  some  of  the  lads,  excited  by 
dancing  and  provoked  at  being  interrupted,  stamped  and 
shouted  so  vociferously  that  the  scene  was  most  amusing 
to  behold,  and  the  Head-Woodsman  stopped  piping  to 
hold  his  sides  with  laughter. 


172  The  Bagpipers. 

Presentl}',  knowing  the  musical  call  which  collects  the 
mules,  and  which  I  knew  too,  having  heard  it  in  the  forest 
of  Saint-Chartier,  Pere  Bastien  sounded  it  in  the  usual 
manner ;  and  when  the  clairin  and  his  followers  trotted 
up  and  surrounded  the  cask  on  which  he  was  seated,  he 
laughed  more  than  ever  to  see  a  tronp  of  black  beasts 
dancing  round  him  instead  of  the  late  gala  company. 

Brulette,  however,  who  escaped  from  the  confusion  and 
took  refuge  with  Joseph  and  me,  seemed  terrified,  and 
did  not  take  it  as  a  joke. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  I  said  to  her.  "  Perhaps  it  is 
friend  Huriel  who  has  come  back  for  a  dance  with  3'ou." 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  answered.  ''Therence,  who  knows  her 
brother's  mules,  sa^'s  there  is  not  one  of  his  in  the  troop ; 
besides,  that 's  not  his  horse  nor  his  dog.  I  am  afraid  of 
all  muleteers  except  Huriel,  and  I  wish  we  could  get  away 
from  here." 

As  she  spoke,  we  saw  some  twent}'  muleteers  coming  out 
of  the  surrounding  forest.  The}^  pi-esentl}'  called  off  their 
beasts  and  stood  round  to  see  the  dancing.  I  reassured 
Brulette  ;  for  in  full  day  and  in  sight  of  so  man}'  people  I 
knew  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  Onl}'  I  told  her  not  to  go 
away  far  from  me,  and  then  I  returned  to  the  arbor,  where 
I  saw  the  muleteers  were  about  to  help  themselves  without 
cere  m  on}'. 

As  they  shouted  out,  "To  drink  !  something  to  drink  ! '* 
like  folks  in  a  tavern,  I  told  them  civilly  that  I  did  not 
sell  my  wine,  but  that  if  they  asked  for  it  politely  1  should 
be  happy  to  give  them  the  loving  cup. 

"  Then  it  is  a  wedding?  "  said  the  tallest  of  them,  whom 
I  recognized  by  liis  fair  skin  as  the  leader  of  those  we  had 
met  so  unluckily  in  the  woods  of  La  Poche. 

"Wedding  or  not,"  I  replied,  "it  is  I  who  give  the 
feast,  and  with  all  my  heart  to  those  I  please  \  but  —  " 


Tlie  Bagpipers,  173 

He  did  not  leave  me  time  to  finish  before  he  answered, 
''We  have  no  rights  here,  — you  are  the  master;  thank 
3'ou  for  3'our  good  intentions,  but  3'ou  don't  know  us,  and 
3'ou  had  better  keep  3'Our  wine  for  3'our  friends." 

He  said  a  few  words  to  the  others  in  their  own  dialect 
and  led  them  to  a  place  apart,  where  they  sat  down  and 
ate  their  own  suppers  ver3^  quietl3'.  The  Head- Woodsman 
went  to  speak  with  them,  and  showed  much  regard  for 
their  leader,  named  Archignat,  who  was  considered  an 
upright  man,  —  as  far  as  a  muleteer  can  be  one. 

Among  those  present  were  several  who  could  pla3^  the 
bagpipe,  —  not  like  Pere  Bastien,  who  had  n't  his  equal 
in  the  world,  and  could  make  the  stones  dance  and  the  old 
oaks  curtse3^  if  he  liked,  —  but  much  better  than  Carnat 
and  his  son.  So  the  bagpipe  changed  hands  until  it  reached 
those  of  the  muleteer  chief  Archignat ;  while  the  Head- 
Woodsman,  whose  heart  and  bod3'  were  still  3'oung,  went 
to  dance  with  his  daughter,  of  whom  he  was  just  as  proud 
—  and  with  as  good  riglit,  too  —  as  Pere  Brulet  was  of 
his. 

But  just  as  he  was  calling  Brulette  to  come  and  be  his 
vis-a-vis,  a  rascall3'  fellow,  coming  from  I  don't  know 
where,  endeavored  to  take  her  hand.  Though  it  was  get- 
ting dusk,  Brulette  recognized  him  as  the  man  who  had 
threatened  us  in  the  woods  of  La  Roche,  and  had  even 
talked  of  killing  her  protectors  and  bur3'ing  them  under 
a  tree  that  could  tell  no  tales.  Fear  and  horror  made 
her  refuse  him  quick]3'  and  press  back  against  me,  who, 
having  exhausted  all  m3'  provisions,  was  just  going  to 
dance  with  her. 

"  The  girl  promised  me  this  dance,"  I  said  to  the 
muleteer,  seeing  he  was  determined  to  get  her;  "find 
some  one  else." 


174  The  Bagpipers. 

"  Very  good,"  he  said;  "but  after  this  set  with  you, 
my  turn  will  come." 

"No,"  said  Brulette,  hastily,  "I  would  rather  never 
dance  again." 

"That's  what  we  shall  see!"  he  exclaimed,  following 
us  to  the  dance,  where  he  remained  standing  behind  us, 
and  criticising  us,  I  think,  in  his  own  language.  Every 
time  Brulette  passed  him  he  gave  vent  to  language  which, 
from  the  expression  of  his  bad  eyes,  I  judged  to  be 
insolent. 

"  Wait  till  I  have  finished  dancing,"  I  said,  punching 
him  as  I  passed  ;  "  I  '11  settle  your  bill  for  you  in  language 
your  back  shall  understand." 

But  when  the  dance  was  over  I  could  not  find  him  any- 
where, he  had  hidden  himself  so  carefully.  Brulette,  see- 
ing what  a  coward  he  was,  got  over  her  fright  and  danced 
with  the  others,  who  paid  her  ver}'  pretty  respect ;  but  just 
as  I  ceased  for  a  moment  to  watch  her,  the  scoundrel  came 
back  and  took  her  from  the  midst  of  a  number  of  young 
girls,  forcing  her  into  the  middle  of  the  dance,  and  taking 
advantage  of  the  darkness  which  hid  her  resistance,  tried 
to  embrace  her.  At  that  moment  I  ran  up,  not  seeing 
clearly,  but  thinking  I  heard  Brulette  call  me.  I  had  no 
time  to  do  justice  on  the  man  myself,  for  before  his  black- 
ened face  had  touched  hers  the  fellow  received  such  a 
blow  on  the  nape  of  his  neck  that  his  e3'es  must  have 
bulged  like  those  of  a  rat  pinned  in  a  trap. 

Brulette,  thinking  the  help  came  from  me,  threw  herself 
into  her  defender's  arms,  and  was  much  amazed  to  find 
herself  in  those  of  Huriel. 

I  tried  to  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  our  friend  had 
his  arms  full,  to  seize  the  scoundrel  m3'self ;  and  I  would 
have  paid  him  all  I  owed  him  if  the  company  had  not 


The  Bagpipers.  175 

interfered  between  us.  As  the  man  now  assailed  us  with 
words,  calling  us  cowards  because  we  had  attaclied  him 
two  to  one,  the  music  stopped  ;  the  crowd  gathered  about 
the  scene  of  the  quarrel,  and  the  Head-Woodsman  came 
up  with  Archiguat,  —  one  forbidding  the  muleteers,  and 
the  other  the  woodcutters  and  sawyers,  from  taking  part 
in  the  affair  until  the  meaning  of  it  were  known. 

Malzac  —  that  was  our  enemj's  name  (and  he  had  a 
tongue  as  venomous  as  an  adder's)  —  made  his  statement 
first,  declaring  that  he  had  civillj'  invited  the  Berrichon 
girl  to  dance ;  that  in  kissing  her  he  had  only  used  his 
right  and  followed  the  custom  of  the  dance,  and  that  two  of 
the  girl's  lovers,  to  wit,  Huriel  and  I,  had  unfairly  attacked 
him  together  and  foully  struck  him. 

''  That  is  false,"  I  replied.  "•  It  is  a  lasting  regret  to  me 
tliat  I  did  not  belabor  the  man  who  has  just  addressed 
you  ;  but  the  truth  is  I  arrived  too  late  to  touch  him  in  any 
way,  fair  or  foul ;  for  the  people  round  withheld  my  arm 
as  1  was  going  to  strike.  I  tell  you  the  thing  as  it  hap- 
pened ;  but  give  me  a  chance,  and  I  will  make  true,  what 
he  has  said  !  " 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Huriel,  "  I  took  him  b}^  the  neck  as 
you  would  a  hare,  but  without  striking  him,  and  it  is  not 
m}'  fault  if  his  clothes  did  n't  protect  his  skin.  But  I  owe 
him  a  better  lesson,  and  I  came  here  to-night  to  find  an 
opportunity  to  give  it.  Therefore,  I  demand  of  Maitre 
Archignat,  my  chief,  and  of  Maitre  Bastien,  m^'  father,  to 
be  heard  at  once,  or  directly  after  this  fete  is  over,  and  to 
receive  justice  if  my  claim  is  recognized  as  good." 

On  this  the  mendicant  friar  came  forward  and  began  to 
preach  peace  ;  but  he  had  too  much  of  the  good  Bourbon 
wine  in  his  head  to  manage  his  tongue,  and  he  couldn't 
make  himself  heard  in  the  uproar. 


176  The  Bagpipers, 

"  Silence  !  "  cried  the  Head-Woodsman,  in  a  voice  that 
would  have  drowned  the  thunder  of  heaven.  "  Stand 
back  all  of  3'ou,  and  let  us  manage  our  own  affairs ;  3'ou 
can  listen  if  yo\x  like,  but  you  have  no  voice  in  this  chap- 
ter. Stand  here,  muleteers,  for  Malzac  and  Huriel.  And 
here  stand  I,  and  the  men  of  the  forest,  as  sponsors  and 
judges  for  this  youth  of  Berr3\  Speak,  Tiennet,  and  bring 
3'our  charge.  What  have  3'Ou  against  this  muleteer?  If 
it  be  true  that  he  kissed  3'Our  compatriot  in  the  dance  I 
know  that  such  is  the  custom  in  3'our  part  of  the  countr3' 
as  well  as  in  our  own.  That  is  not  reason  enough  even  to 
think  of  strikinoj  a  man.     Tell  us  the  cause  of  vour  anger 

O  I/O 

against  him  ;  that  is  where  we  must  begin." 

I  did  not  need  urging,  and  although  such  an  assemblage 
of  muleteers  and  foresters  caused  me  some  embarrassment, 
I  managed  to  oil  my  tongue  sufficientl3"  to  tell,  in  a  proper 
manner,  the  stor3'  of  what  happened  in  the  woods  of  La 
Roche  ;  and  I  claimed  the  testimon3'  of  chief  Archignat 
himself,  to  whom  I  did  justice,  even  more  perhaps  than  he 
deserved  ;  but  I  saw  ver3'  well  that  I  must  not  throw  an3^ 
blame  on  him  if  I  wished  to  have  him  favorable  to  me ; 
and  in  this  wa3^  I  proved  to  him  that  Berrichons  are  not 
greater  fools  than  other  people,  nor  an3'  easier  to  put  in 
the  wrong. 

The  compan3%  who  had  alreadv  formed  a  good  opinion 
of  Brulette  and  me,  blamed  Malzac's  conduct ;  but  the 
Head- Woodsman  again  commanded  silence,  and  address- 
ing Maitre  Archignat,  demanded  to  know  if  there  were 
an3'thing  false  in   m3'  statement. 

The  tall  red-haired  chief  was  a  shrewd  and  prudent  man. 
His  face  was  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  no  matter  what  an- 
no3'ance  he  felt,  he  never  seemed  to  have  a  drop  more  or  a 
drop  less  of  blood  in  his  bod3\      His  parti-colored  eyes 


The  Bagjnpers,  177 

were  soft  and  not  deceitful  in  expression  ;  but  his  mouth, 
partl}^  hidden  b}'  his  red  beard,  smiled  every  now  and  then 
with  a  silly  air  which  concealed  a  fund  of  intelligent  malev- 
olence. He  did  not  hke  Huriel,  though  he  behaved  as  if 
he  did,  and  he  was  generally  considered  an  honest  man. 
In  reality,  he  was  the  greatest  pillager  of  them  all,  and  his 
conscience  set  the  interests  of  his  fraternit}'  above  ever}' 
other  consideration.  The}'  had  chosen  him  chief  on  ac- 
count of  his  cool-bloodedness,  which  enabled  him  to  act 
b}'  stratagem  and  thus  save  the  band  from  quarrels  and 
legal  proceedings,  in  which  indeed  he  was  considered  as 
clever  as  a  law3'er's  clerk. 

He  made  no  answer  to  the  Head-Woodsman's  question, — 
whether  from  caution  or  stupidity  it  was  impossible  to  say  ; 
for  the  more  his  attention  was  roused,  the  more  he  looked 
like  a  man  who  was  half-asleep  and  did  not  hear  what 
was  said  to  him.  He  merel}'  made  a  sign  to  Huriel  as  if 
to  ask  if  the  testimony  he  was  going  to  give  would  agree 
with  his  own.  But  Huriel  who,  without  being  si}',  was  as 
cautious  as  he,  answered:  "  Master,  you  are  appealed  to 
as  witness  by  this  young  man.  If  it  please  you  to  corrobo- 
rate him,  I  am  not  needed  to  corroborate  you  ;  and  if  you 
think  fit  to  blame  him,  the  customs  of  our  fraternity  forbid 
me  to  contradict  you.  No  one  here  has  anything  to  do 
with  our  affairs.  If  Malzac  has  been  to  blame  I  know 
beforehand  that  you  will  blame  him.  My  affair  is  a  to- 
tally different  matter.  In  the  dispute  we  had  together 
before  you  in  the  woods  of  La  Roche,  the  cause  of  which 
I  am  not  obliged  to  reveal,  Malzac  told  me  three  times 
that  I  lied,  and  he  threatened  me  personally.  I  don't 
know  if  you  heard  him,  but  I  declare  it  on  my  oath  ;  and 
as  I  was  then  insulted  and  dishonored  I  now  claim  the 
right  of  battle  according  to  the  rules  of  our  order." 

12 


178  The  Bagpipers. 

Arcliignat  consulterl  the  other  muleteers  in  a  low  voice, 
and  it  appeared  that  they  all  sustained  Huriel,  for  they 
formed  a  ring,  and  the  chief  uttered  one  word  onl}', 
*'  Go  !  "  on  which  Malzac  and  Huriel  advanced  and  faced 
each  other. 

I  tried  to  put  myself  forward,  declaring  it  was  for  me  to 
revenge  m}'  cousin,  and  that  my  complaint  was  of  more 
importance  than  that  of  Huriel ;  but  Archignat  shoved  me 
aside,  saying:  "If  Huriel  is  beaten,  3'ou  can  come  for- 
ward ;  but  if  Malzac  goes  down  you  must  be  satisfied  with 
what  3'OU  have  seen  done." 

"  The  women  will  retire  !  "  cried  the  Head-Woodsman, 
"  they  are  oat  of  place  here." 

He  was  pale  as  he  said  it,  but  he  did  not  flinch  from  the 
danger  his  son  was  about  to  meet. 

"  The}'  can  retire  if  the}'  choose,"  said  Therence,  w4io 
was  pale,  too,  but  quite  as  firm  as  he.  '^  I  must  remain 
for  ni}'  brother ;  he  may  need  me  to  stanch  his  blood." 

Brulette,  more  dead  than  alive,  implored  Huriel  and  me 
not  to  go  on  with  the  quarrel ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  listen 
to  her.  I  gave  her  to  Joseph's  care,  and  he  took  her  to 
a  distance,  while  I  laid  aside  my  jacket  to  be  ready  to 
revenge  Huriel  if  he  fell. 

I  had  no  idea  what  sort  of  fight  it  would  be,  and  I 
watched  it  carefull}',  so  as  not  to  be  taken  unawares  when 
my  turn  should  come.  The}'  had  lighted  two  pine  torches 
and  had  measured,  by  pacing,  the  space  to  which  the  com- 
batants should  be  confined.  Each  was  furnished  with  a 
holly  stick,  short  and  knotted,  and  the  Plead- Woodsman 
assisted  Archignat  in  making  these  preparations  with  a 
calmness  which  was  not  in  his  heart  and  which  it  grieved 
me  to  see. 

Malzac,  who  was  short  and  thin,  was  not  as  strong  as 


The  Bagpipers,  179 

Huriel,  but  he  was  quicker  in  his  movements  and  knew  bet- 
ter how  to  fight ;  for  Huriel,  tliough  skilful  with  the  stick, 
was  so  kindh'  in  temper  that  he  had  seldom  had  occasion  to 
use  it.  All  this  passed  through  my  mind  during  the  few 
moments  in  which  they  were  feeling  each  other's  strength  ; 
and  I  confess  my  heart  thumped  within  me,  as  much  from 
fear  for  Huriel  as  from  anger  against  his  enem}^ 

For  two  or  three  minutes,  which  seemed  to  me  hours  b}^ 
the  clock,  not  a  blow  reached  its  aim,  each  being  well 
parried  on  either  side ;  presently,  however,  we  began  to 
hear  that  the  sticks  no  longer  struck  wood,  and  the  muf- 
fled sound  the}'  made  falling  on  flesh  gave  me  a  cold  sweat. 
In  our  part  of  the  countr}'  we  never  fight  under  rules  ex- 
cept with  fists,  and  I  own  that  m}'  feelings  were  not  har- 
dened enough  to  stand  the  idea  of  split  heads  and  broken 
jaws.  I  felt  disgust,  anger,  and  pity  for  the  whole  thing, 
and  yet  I  watched  with  open  mouth  and  eyes  to  lose  noth- 
ing of  it ;  for  the  wind  blew  the  flame  of  the  torches,  and 
sometimes  nothing  more  than  a  hazy  light  surrounded  the 
combatants.  Suddenl}',  however,  one  of  the  two  gave  a 
moan  like  that  of  a  tree  cut  in  two  by  a  blast  of  wind,  and 
rolled  in  the  dust. 

Which  was  it?  I  could  not  see,  for  the  dazzles  were  in 
my  eyes,  but  I  heard  Therence  exclaim,  — 

''  Thank  God,  my  brother  has  won  !  " 

I  began  to  see  again.  Huriel  was  standing  erect,  wait- 
ing, like  a  fair  fighter,  to  see  if  his  adversary  rose,  but  not 
approaching  him,  for  fear  of  some  treachery,  of  which  he 
knew  the  man  capable. 

But  Malzac  did  not  rise,  and  Archignat,  forbidding  the 
others  to  move,  called  him  three  times.  No  answer  being 
given  he  advanced  towards  him,  saying,  — 

"  Malzac,  it  is  I,  don't  touch  me." 


180  The  Bagpi^jers. 

Malzac  appeared  to  have  no  desire  to  do  so,  —  he  la^-  as 
still  as  a  stone  ;  and  the  chief  stooping  over  him,  touched 
him,  looked  at  him,  and  then  called  two  of  the  muleteers 
by  name  and  said  to  them  :  — 

'^  The  game  is  up  with  him  ;  do  what  there  is  to  do." 

Thej'  immediately^  took  him  by  the  feet  and  head  and 
disappeared  at  full  speed  in  the  forest,  followed  by  the 
other  muleteers,  who  prevented  all  who  did  not  belong  to 
their  fraternit}'  from  making  an}'  inquirv  as  to  the  result 
of  the  affair.  Maitre  Archignat  was  the  last  to  go,  after 
saying  a  word  to  the  Head- Woodsman,  who  replied,  — 

"  That's  enough  ;  adieu." 

Therence  had  fastened  on  her  brother,  and  was  wiping 
the  perspiration  from  his  face  with  a  handkerchief,  asking 
him  if  he  was  wounded,  and  trj'ing  to  detain  him  and  ex- 
amine him.  But  he,  too,  whispered  in  her  ear,  and  she  at 
once  replied,  — 

"  Yes,  3'es  —  adieu  !  '* 

Huriel  then  took  Archignat's  arm,  and  the  pair  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness  ;  for,  as  they  went,  they  knocked 
over  the  torches,  and  I  felt  for  a  moment  as  if  I  were  in 
the  act  of  waking  out  of  an  ugly  dream,  full  of  lights  and 
noises,  into  the  silence  and  thick  darkness  of  the  night. 


Tlie  Bagfifers,  181 


SIXTEENTH   EVENING. 

However,  I  began  to  see  clearl}',  little  b}'  little,  and  my 
feet,  whose  soles  had  seemed  pegged  to  the  ground,  fol- 
lowed the  Head-Woodsman  in  the  direction  of  the  lodges. 
I  was  much  surprised  to  find  that  there  was  no  one  there 
but  his  daughter,  Brulette,  Joseph,  and  three  or  four  old 
men  who  had  been  at  the  fight.  All  the  others,  it  ap- 
peared, had  run  away  when  they  saw  the  sticks  produced, 
to  avoid  giving  witness  in  a  court  of  justice  if  the  matter 
ended  fatall3\  These  woodland  people  never  betray  each 
other,  and  to  escape  being  summoned  and  harassed  by 
the  law,  the}^  manage  so  as  to  see  nothing  and  have  noth- 
ing to  say.  The  Head-Woodsman  spoke  to  the  old  men 
in  their  own  language,  and  I  saw  them  go  back  to  the 
place  where  the  fight  occurred,  without  understanding  what 
the}'  intended  to  do  there.  Meantime  I  followed  Joseph 
and  the  women,  and  we  reached  the  lodges  without  saying 
a  word  to  each  other. 

As  for  me,  I  had  been  so  shaken  in  mind  that  I  did  not 
want  to  talk.  When  we  entered  the  lodge  and  sat  down 
we  were  all  as  white  as  if  we  were  afraid.  The  Head- 
Woodsman,  who  soon  joined  us,  sat  down  too,  evidently  in 
deep  thought,  with  his  eyes  fixed  to  the  earth.  Brulette, 
who  had  compelled  herself  not  to  ask  questions,  was  cr}'- 
ing  in  a  corner;  Joseph,  as  if  worn  out  with  fatigue,  had 
thrown  himself  at  full  length  on  a  pile  of  dried  ferns ; 
Therence  alone  came  and  went,  and  prepared  the  beds 
for  the  night ;  but  her  teeth  were  set,  and  when  she  tried 
to  speak  she  stammered. 


182  The  Bagpipers. 

After  a  while  the  Head -Woodsman  rose  and  looking, 
round  upon  us  said:  "Well,  m}'  children,  after  all,  what 
is  it?  A  lesson  has  been  given,  and  justty  given,  to  a 
bad  man,  known  everywhere  for  his  evil  conduct,  —  a 
man  who  abandoned  his  wife  and  let  her  die  of  grief  and 
poverty.  Malzac  has  long  disgraced  the  fraternity  of 
muleteers,  and  if  he  were  to  die  no  one  would  regret  him. 
Must  we  make  ourselves  unhappy  because  Huriel  gave 
him  a  few  hard  blows  in  honest  battle?  Wh}'  do  yon  cr}', 
Brulette?  Have  you  such  a  soft  heart  that  3'ou  are 
shedding  tears  for  the  beaten  man?  Do  you  not  think  that 
my  son  was  right  to  defend  your  honor  and  his  own? 
He  had  told  me  all  that  happened  in  the  woods  of  La 
Roche,  and  I  knew  that  out  of  prudent  regard  for  3'our 
safety  he  refrained  from  punishing  that  man  at  the  time. 
He  even  hoped  that  Tien  net  would  have  said  nothing 
about  it  to-night,  so  that  the  cause  might  never  be  known. 
But  I,  who  never  approve  of  concealing  the  truth,  allowed 
Tiennet  to  say  what  he  liked.  I  am  well -pleased  that  he 
was  prevented  from  entering  a  fight  which  is  most  dan- 
gerous for  those  who  do  not  understand  the  passes.  I 
am  also  well-pleased  that  victory  was  with  my  son  ;  for 
as  between  an  honest  man  and  a  bad  man,  my  heart 
would  have  gone  with  the  honest  man  even  if  he  were 
not  blood  of  m}^  blood  and  flesh  of  my  flesh.  And  so 
let  us  thank  God,  who  judged  the  right,  and  ask  him  to 
be  ever  with  us,  in  this  and  in  all  things." 

The  Head-Woodsman  knelt  down  and  off'ered  the  even- 
ing prayer ;  which  comforted  and  tranquillized  every  one 
of  us.  Then  we  separated  in  hearty  friendship  to  seek 
some  rest. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  heard  the  Head- Woodsman, 
whose  httle  chamber  I  shared,  snoring  loudly,  in  spite  of  the 


The  Bagpipers.  183 

anxiet}'  he  had  undergone.  But  in  his  daughter's  room 
Brulette  was  still  crying,  unable  to  recover  herself,  and 
evidently  ill.  I  heard  her  talking  to  Therence,  and  so, 
not  from  curiosit}^  but  out  of  pit}'  for  her  trouble,  I  put 
my  ear  to  the  partition  to  hear  what  I  could. 

"  Come,  come,"  Therence  was  saying,  in  decided  tones, 
*'  stop  cr3'ing  and  3'ou  will  go  to  sleep.  Tears  won't  do 
an}'  good,  and,  as  I  told  you,  I  must  go ;  if  3'Ou  wake 
my  father,  who  does  not  >know  he  is  wounded,  he  will 
want  to  go  too,  and  that  may  compromise  him  in  this 
bad  business ;   whereas  for  me,  I  risk  nothing." 

"You  terrify  me,  Therence;  how  can  you  go  alone 
among  those  muleteers?  They  frighten  me  badl}'  enough, 
but  you  must  let  me  go  with  you ;  I  ought  to,  for  I  was 
the  cause  of  the  fight.      Let  us  call  Tiennet  —  " 

"No,  no!  neither  you  nor  him!  The  muleteers  won't 
regret  Malzac  if  he  should  die,  —  quite  the  reverse  ;  but 
if  he  had  been  injured  by  an}'  one  not  belonging  to  their 
own  body,  especially  a  stranger,  your  friend  Tiennet 
would  be  in  the  greatest  danger.  Let  him  sleep ;  it  is 
enough  that  he  tried  to  meddle  in  the  affair  to  make  it 
important  that  he  should  keep  quiet  now.  As  for  you, 
Brulette,  you  would  be  very  ill-received ;  you  have  not, 
as  I  have,  a  family  interest  to  take  you  there.  No  one 
among  them  would  attempt  to  injure  me  ;  they  all  know 
me,  and  they  are  not  afraid  to  let  me  into  their  secrets." 

"  But  do  you  think  you  will  still  find  them  in  the  forest? 
Did  not  your  father  say  they  were  going  to  the  uplands, 
and  would  not  spend  the  night  in  this  neighborhood  ?  " 

"They  must  wait  long  enough  to  dress  the  wounds. 
1)11 1  if  I  do  not  find  them  I  shall  be  all  the  more  easy ; 
for  it  will  prove  that  my  brother  is  not  seriously  hurt,  and 
that  he  could  start  with  them  at  once." 


184  The  Bagpiijers. 

"Did  you  see  his  wound?  tell  me,  dear  Therence, 
don't  hide  an3'thing  from  me." 

"  I  did  not  see  it,  — no  one  saw  it ;  he  said  he  was  not 
hurt,  and  did  not  even  think  of  himself.  But  see,  Brulette, 
—  only  don't  cr}'  out,  —  here  is  the  handkerchief  witli 
which,  as  I  thought,  I  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face. 
When  I  got  back  here  I  found  it  was  saturated  with 
blood  ;  and  I  had  to  gather  all  m}'  courage  to  hide  my 
feelings  from  my  father,  who  is  ver}^  anxious,  and  from 
Joseph,  who  is  reall}^  ill." 

Then  came  silence,  as  if  Brulette,  taking  or  gazing  at 
the  handkerchief,  was  choking.  Presentl}^  Therence  said : 
"Give  it  back  to  me;  I  must  wash  it  in  the  first  brook 
I  come  to." 

"Ah,  no!"  said  Brulette,  "let  me  keep  it;  I'll  hide 
it  safely." 

"  No,  my  dear,"  replied  Therence  ;  "if  the  authorities 
get  wind  of  the  battle  the}'  will  come  and  rummage  ever}" 
place  here, — they  will  even  search  our  persons.  They 
have  grown  very  annoying  of  late  ;  they  want  us  to  give 
up  our  old  customs,  which  are  dying  out  of  themselves, 
without  their  meddling  in  the  matter." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  Brulette,  "  is  n't  it  to  be  wished  that  the 
custom  of  these  dangerous  fights  should  be  given  up?  " 

"  Yes,  but  that  depends  on  many  things  which  the 
officers  of  the  law  cannot  or  will  not  do.  For  instance, 
they  ought  to  do  justice,  and  that  they  never  do  except 
to  those  who  have  the  means  to  pay  for  it.  Is  it  diflE'erent 
in  your  parts?  You  don't  know?  well,  I  will  bet  it  is  the 
same  thing  there.  Only,  the  Bcrrichon  blood  is  sluggish, 
and  your  people  are  patient  under  the  wrongs  done  them, 
and  so  they  don't  expose  themselves  to  worse.  Here  it 
is  not  so.     A  man  who  lives  in  the  forest  could  not  live  at 


The  Bagpij^ej's.  185 

all  if  he  did  not  defend  himself  against  bad  men  as  he 
"would  against  wolves  and  other  dangerous  beasts.  Surely 
3'ou  don't  blame  my  brother  for  having  demanded  justice 
of  his  own  people  for  an  insult  and  a  threat  he  was  made 
to  endure  before  3'ou  ?  Perhaps  you  are  slightly  to  blame 
in  the  matter ;  think  of  that,  Brulette,  before  you  blame 
him.  If  3'ou  had  not  shown  such  anger  and  fear  at  the 
insults  of  that  muleteer  he  might  have  overlooked  those 
to  himself,  for  there  never  was  a  gentler  man  than  Huriel 
or  one  more  ready  to  forgive ;  but  you  held  3'ourself 
insulted,  Huriel  promised  you  reparation,  and  he  kept  his 
word.  I  am  not  reproaching  3'ou,  nor  him  either ;  I 
might  have  been  just  as  sensitive  as  you,  and  as  for  him, 
he  only  did  his  duty." 

"No,  no!"  said  Brulette,  beginning  to  cr}^  again; 
"  He  ought  not  to  have  exposed  himself  for  me,  and  I 
was  ver}^  wrong  to  show  such  pride.  I  shall  never  for- 
give m3'self  if  any  harm,  no  matter  what,  comes  to  him ; 
and  3'ou  and  3'our  father,  who  have  been  so  good  to  me, 
can  never  forgive  me  either." 

"  Don't  fret  about  that,"  replied  Tiierence.  "  Whatever 
happens  is  God's  will,  and  you  will  never  be  blamed  b3' 
us.  I  know  3'ou  now,  Brulette  ;  I  know  that  3'ou  deserve 
respect.  Come,  dr3'  3'our  e3'es  and  go  to  sleep.  I  hope 
I  shall  bring  3'ou  back  good  news,  and  I  am  certain  m3' 
brother  will  be  consoled  and  half-cured  if  3'OU  will  let  me 
tell  him  how  sorr3^  3'ou  are  for  his  wound." 

*' I  think,"  said  Brulette,  "that  he  will  think  more  of 
5'our  regard,  for  there  is  no  woman  in  the  world  he  could 
ever  love  like  his  own  good  and  brave  sister.  And, 
Therence,  that  is  why  I  am  sorr3"  I  made  3'Ou  ask  him 
for  that  token,  and  if  he  had  a  fanc3'  to  have  it  back,  I 
dare  sa3'  you  would  give  it  to  him." 


186  The  Bagpipers. 

"  That 's  right,  Brulette,"  cried  Therence  ;  "  I  kiss  you 
for  those  words.     Sleep  in  peace,  I  am  off." 

"  I  shall  not  sleep,"  replied  Brulette  ;  "  I  shall  pray  to 
God  to  help  you  till  I  see  you  safe  back  again." 

I  heard  Therence  softly  leave  the  lodge,  and  a  minute 
later  1  also  went  out.  I  could  not  bring  my  conscience 
to  allow  a  beautiful  girl  to  expose  herself  all  alone  to  the 
dangers  of  the  night ;  nor  could  I,  out  of  fear  for  mj'self, 
withhold  what  power  I  had  to  give  her  assistance.  The 
people  she  was  going  to  seek  did  not  seem  to  me  such 
gentle  and  good  Christians  as  she  made  them  out  to  be, 
and  besides,  perhaps  they  were  not  the  onh'  ones  in  the 
w^ood  that  night.  Our  dance  had  attracted  beggars,  and 
we  know  that  folks  who  ask  charit3'  don't  always  show 
it  to  others  when  occasion  offers.  Moreover,  —  and  I 
am  sure  I  don't  know  why, — the  red  and  shining  face 
of  the  Carmelite  friar,  who  had  paid  such  attention  to  my 
wine,  kept  coming  into  my  head.  He  struck  me  as  not 
lowering  his  eyes  ver}^  much  when  he  passed  near  the 
girls,  and  I  had  n't  noticed  what  became  of  him  in  the 
general  huUaballoo. 

But  Therence  had  declared  to  Brulette  that  she  did  not 
want  m}"  compan}^  in  lier  search  for  the  muleteers  ;  so,  not 
wishing  to  displease  her,  I  determined  not  to  let  her  see 
me,  and  to  follow  her  onl}?"  within  hearing,  in  case  she  had 
occasion  to  cr}'  for  help.  Accordingl}',  I  let  her  get  about 
a  minute  in  advance,  not  more,  though  I  would  have  liked 
to  stay  and  tranquillize  Brulette  b}^  telling  her  my  plan. 
I  was,  however,  afraid  to  delay  and  so  lose  the  trail  of 
the  woodland  beaut}-. 

I  saw  her  cross  the  open  and  enter  a  copse  which  sloped 
toward  the  bed  of  a  brook,  not  far  from  the  lodges.  I 
entered  after  her,  by  the  same  path,  and  as  there  were 


The  Bagpipers,  187 

numerous  turns,  I  soon  lost  sight  of  her ;  but  I  heard  the 
sound  of  her  light  step,  which  ever}^  now  and  then  broke  a 
dead  branch,  or  rolled  a  pebble.  She  seemed  to  be  walk- 
ing rapidly,  and  I  did  the  same,  to  prevent  her  getting 
too  far  in  advance  of  me.  Two  or  three  times  I  thought 
I  was  so  near  her  that  I  slackened  m}-  pace  in  order  that 
she  might  not  see  me.  We  came  thus  to  one  of  the  roads 
which  lead  through  the  woods  ;  but  the  shadow  of  the  tall 
trees  was  so  dense  that  I,  looking  from  right  to  left,  was 
unable  to  see  anything  that  indicated  which  wa}'  she  had 
gone. 

I  listened,  ear  to  earth,  and  I  heard  in  the  path,  which 
continued  across  the  road,  the  same  breaking  of  branches 
which  had  already  guided  me.  I  hastened  forward  till  I 
reached  another  road  whicdi  led  down  to  the  brook  ;  there 
I  began  to  fear  I  had  lost  trace  of  her,  for  the  brook 
was  wide  and  the  bank  mudd}',  and  I  saw  no  sign  of  foot- 
steps. There  is  nothing  so  deceiving  as  the  paths  of  a 
wood.  In  some  places  the  trees  stand  so  that  one  fancies 
there  must  be  a  path  ;  or  perhaps  wild  animals  going  to 
water  have  beaten  out  a  track ;  and  then  all  of  a  sudden 
we  find  ourselves  tangled  in  underbrush,  or  sinking  in  such 
a  bog  that  it  is  useless  trying  to  go  further. 

However,  I  persisted,  because  I  still  heard  the  noise 
before  me,  and  it  was  so  distinct  that  finally  I  began  to 
run,  tearing  mj'  clothes  in  the  brambles,  and  plunging 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  thicket,  when  suddenly  a  sav- 
age growl  let  me  know  that  the  creature  I  was  pursuing 
was  a  boar,  which  was  beginning  to  be  anno3'ed  by  my 
compan}',  and  wished  to  show  that  he  had  had  enough 
of  it.  Having  no  weapon  but  a  stick,  and  not  knowing 
how  to  deal  with  that  kind  of  beast,  I  turned  round  and 
retraced  my  steps,  rather  uneas}'  lest  the  boar  should  take 


188  The  Bag'piiders. 

it  into  his  bead  to  accompany  me.  Fortunately,  he  did 
not  think  of  it,  and  I  returned  as  far  as  the  first  road, 
where  by  mere  chance  I  took  tlie  direction  whicli  led  to 
the  entrance  of  the  woods  of  Chamberat,  where  we  had 
held  the  fete. 

Though  baffled,  I  did  not  choose  to  renounce  my  search  ; 
for  Therence  might  meet  some  wild  beast,  as  I  had,  and 
I  did  n't  believe  she  knew  any  language  that  that  kind 
of  enemy  would  listen  to.  I  already  knew  enough  of  the 
forest  not  to  get  lost  for  any  length  of  time,  and  I  soon 
reached  the  place  where  we  had  danced.  It  took  me  a 
few  moments  to  be  certain  that  it  was  the  same  open,  for 
I  expected  to  find  mj'  arbor,  with  the  utensils  which  I  had 
not  had  time  to  carry  awaj' ;  but  the  place  where  I  left  it 
was  as  smooth  as  if  it  had  ncA^er  been  there.  Neverthe- 
less, searching  care  full}',  I  found  the  holes  where  I  had 
driven  in  the  stakes,  and  the  place  where  the  feet  of  the 
dancers  had  worn  off  the  turf. 

I  wanted  to  find  the  spot  where  the  muleteers  had  dis- 
appeared leading  Huriel  and  carrying  Malzac,  but  try  as 
I  would,  I  had  been  so  confused  in  mind  just  then  that 
I  could  not  recall  it.  So  I  was  forced  to  advance  hap- 
hazard, and  I  marched  in  that  wa}'  all  night,  —  weary 
enough,  as  3'ou  may  suppose,  stopping  often  to  listen,  and 
hearing  nothing  but  the  owls  hooting  in  the  branches,  or 
some  poor  hare  who  was  more  afraid  of  me  than  I  of 
him. 

Though  the  Chamberat  wood  was  really  at  that  time 
joined  to  those  of  AUeu,  I  did  not  know  it,  having  only 
entered  it  once  since  coming  to  that  part  of  the  country. 
I  soon  got  lost ;  which  did  not  trouble  me,  however,  be- 
cause I  knew  that  neither  wood  was  extensive  enough  to 
reach  to  Rome.    Besides,  the  Head-Woodsman  had  already 


The  Bagjnpers.  189 

taught  me  to  take  my  bearings,  not  by  the  stars,  which 
are  not  alwa^'s  to  be  seen  in  a  forest,  but  by  the  bend  of 
the  leading  branches,  which,  in  our  midland  provinces, 
are  lashed  by  north-westerly  winds  and  lean  permanently 
toward  the  east. 

The  night  was  verj^  clear,  and  so  warm  that  if  I  had 
not  been  goaded  by  worry  of  mind  and  fatigued  in  body, 
I  should  have  enjo3'ed  the  walk.  It  was  not  moonlight, 
but  the  stars  shone  in  a  cloudless  sky,  and  I  saw  my  way 
quite  plainly  even  under  the  foliage.  I  was  much  improved 
in  courage  since  the  time  when  I  was  so  frightened  in  the 
little  forest  of  Saint-Chartier ;  for,  although  I  knew  I  was 
going  wrong,  I  felt  as  easy  as  if  on  our  own  roads,  and 
when  I  saw  that  the  animals  ran  away  from  me,  I  had  no 
anxiet}'  at  all.  I  began  to  see  how  it  was  that  these  cov- 
ered glades,  these  brooks  murmuring  in  the  ravines,  the 
soft  herbage,  the  sand}'  paths,  and  the  trees  of  splendid 
growth  and  lofty  pride  made  this  region  dear  to  those  who 
belonged  to  it.  There  were  certain  large  wild-flowers  the 
name  of  which  I  did  not  know,  something  like  a  foxglove, 
white  with  3'ellow  spots,  the  perfume  of  which  was  so  keen 
and  delicious  that  I  could  almost  have  fancied  mj'self  in 
a  garden. 

Keeping  steadil}*  toward  the  west,  I  struck  the  heath 
and  skirted  the  edge  of  it,  listening  and  looking  about 
me.  But  I  saw  no  signs  of  human  beings,  and  about 
daybreak  I  began  to  return  toward  the  lodges  without 
finding  Therence  or  anybodj*  else.  I  had  had  enough  of 
it,  and  seeing  that  I  could  not  make  myself  useful,  I  tried 
a  short  cut  through  the  woods,  where,  in  a  very  wild 
place,  beneath  a  large  oak,  I  saw  something  which  seemed 
to  me  a  person.  Day  was  beginning  to  light  up  the 
bushes,  and  I  walked  noiselessly  forward  till  I  recognized 


190  The  Bagpipers. 

the  brown  garment  of  the  Carmelite  friar.  The  poor 
man,  whom  in  my  heart  I  had  suspected,  was  virtuousl}" 
and  devoutly  on  his  knees,  saying  his  prayers  without 
thought  of  evil. 

I  coughed  as  I  approached,  to  let  him  know  I  was 
there  and  not  to  frighten  him  ;  but  there  was  no  need  of 
that,  for  the  monk  was  a.  worthy  soul  who  feared  none  but 
God,  —  neither  devil  nor  man.  He  raised  his  head  and 
looked  at  me  without  surprise  ;  then  burjing  his  face  in 
his  cowl  he  went  on  muttering  his  orisons,  and  I  could 
see  nothing  but  the  end  of  his  beard,  which  jerked  up  and 
down  as  he  spoke,  like  that  of  a  goat  munching  salt. 

When  he  seemed  to  have  finished,  I  bade  him  good- 
morning,  hoping  to  get  some  news  out  of  him,  but  he 
made  me  a  sign  to  hold  my  tongue  ;  then  he  rose,  picked 
up  his  wallet,  looked  carefully  at  the  place  where  he  had 
been  kneeling,  and  with  his  bare  feet  poked  up  the  grass 
and  levelled  the  sand  he  had  disturbed  ;  after  which  he 
led  me  to  a  little  distance,  and  said  in  a  muffled  voice :  — 

''  Inasmuch  as  3'ou  know  all  about  it,  I  am  not  sorry 
to  talk  to  3'ou  before  I  go  on  my  waj-." 

Finding  he  was  inclined  to  talk,  I  took  care  not  to 
question  him,  which  might  have  made  him  mistrustful; 
but  just  as  he  was  opening  his  mouth  to  speak,  Huriel 
appeared,  and  seemed  so  surprised  and  even  annoyed  to 
see  me  that  I  was  greatly'  embarrassed,  as  if  I  bad  in 
some  way  done  wrong. 

I  must  also  remark  that  Huriel  would  probably  have 
frightened  me  if  I  had  met  him  alone  in  the  gloom  of  the 
morning.  He  was  more  daubed  with  black  than  I  had  ever 
seen  him,  and  a  cloth  bound  round  his  head  hid  his  hair 
and  his  forehead,  so  that  all  one  saw  of  his  face  was  his 
big  eyes,  which  seemed  sunken  and  as  if  they  had  lost  their 


The  Bagpipers.  191 

nsual  fire.  In  fact,  he  looked  like  his  own  spirit  rather 
than  his  own  bod}',  and  he  glided  gently  upon  the  heather 
as  if  he  feared  to  awaken  even  the  crickets  and  the  gnats 
which  were  asleep  in  it. 

The  monk  was  the  first  to  speak  ;  not  as  a  man  who 
accosts  another,  but  as  one  who  continues  a  conversation 
after  a  break  in  it. 

"  As  he  is  here,"  he  said,  pointing  to  me,  'Mt  is  best  to 
give  liim  some  useful  instructions,  and  I  was  on  the  point 
of  telling  him  —  " 

"As  3'ou  have  told  him  everything  — "  began  Huriel, 
cutting  him  short  with  a  reproachful  look. 

Here  I,  in  turn,  interrupted  Huriel  to  tell  him  I  knew 
nothing  as  yet,  and  that  he  was  free  to  conceal  what  he 
was  just  going  to  say. 

"  That's  all  right  in  you,"  replied  Huriel,  "  not  to  seek 
to  know  more  than  3'ou  need ;  but  if  this  is  the  way, 
Brother  Nicolas,  that  3'ou  keep  a  secret  of  such  impor- 
tance, I  am  sorr}'  I  ever  trusted  you." 

"Fear  nothing,"  said  the  Carmelite.  "  I  thought  the 
young  man  was  compromised  with  3'Ou." 

"He  is  not  compromised  at  all,  thank  God!"  said 
Huriel ;   "  one  is  enough  !  " 

"  So  much  the  better  for  him  if  he  only  sinned  by  inten 
tion,"  replied  the  monk.     "  He  is  your  friend,  and  3'ou 
have  nothing  to  fear.     Bat  as  for  me,  I  should  be  glad  if 
he  would  tell  no  one  that  I  passed  the  night  in  these 
woods." 

"  What  harm  could  that  do  3'ou?  "  asked  Huriel.  "  A 
muleteer  met  with  an  accident ;  3'ou  succored  him,  and 
thanks  to  you,  he  will  soon  be  well.  Who  can  blame  3'OU 
for  that  charity  ?  " 

"True,  true,"  said  the  monk.     "Keep  the  phial  and 


192  The  Bagpipers, 

use  the  stuff  twice  a  da}-.  Wash  the  wound  carefull}'  in 
running  water  as  often  as  you  can  do  so  ;  don't  let  the 
hair  stick  in  the  wound,  and  keep  it  covered  from  dust ; 
that  is  all  that  is  necessar}'.  If  you  have  any  fever  get 
yourself  well  bled  by  the  first  friar  you  meet." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Huriel,  "but  I  have  lost  enough 
blood  as  it  is,  and  I  think  we  can  never  have  too  much. 
May  3'ou  be  rewarded,  my  brother,  for  your  kind  help, 
which  I  did  not  greatl}^  need,  but  for  which  I  am  none  the 
less  grateful.  And  now  permit  us  to  say  good-b3'e,  for  it 
is  daylight  and  your  prajers  have  detained  you  here  too 
long." 

"  No  doubt,"  answered  the  monk,  "  but  will  3'ou  let  me 
depart  without  a  word  of  confession?  I  have  cured  3'our 
flesh,  —  that  was  the  first  thing  to  be  done  ;  but  is  your 
conscience  in  an}^  better  state  ?  Do  you  think  3'ou  have 
no  need  of  absolution,  which  is  to  the  soul  what  that 
balsam  is  to  the  bod3'  ?  " 

"  I  have  great  need  of  it,  m3^  father,"  said  Huriel,  "  but 
3'ou  would  do  wrong  to  give  it  to  me  ;  I  am  not  worthy  to 
receive  it  until  I  have  done  penance.  As  to  m3'  confession, 
3^ou  do  not  need  to  hear  it,  for  you  saw  me  commit  a  mor- 
tal sin.  Pra3^  God  for  me  ;  that  is  what  I  ask  of  3'ou,  and 
see  that  man3"  masses  are  said  for  the  soul  of — those  who 
let  anger  get  the  better  of  them." 

I  thought  at  first  he  was  joking ;  but  I  knew  better 
when  I  saw  the  mone3^  he  gave  to  the  friar,  and  heard  the 
sad  tone  of  his  last  words. 

"Be  sure  you  shall  receive  according  to  your  gener- 
osit3',"  said  the  friar  putting  the  mone3'  in  his  wallet. 
Then  he  added,  in  a  tone  in  which  there  was  nothing  hypo- 
critical :  ' '  Maitre  Huriel,  we  are  all  sinners  and  there  is 
but  one  just  judge.     He  alone,  who  has  never  sinned,  has 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  1 


OQ 


the  rigrht  to  condemn  or  to  absolve  the  faults  of  men. 
Commit  yourself  to  him,  and  be  sure  that  whatever  there 
is  to  your  credit  he  will  in  his  mercy  place  to  \o\xv  ac- 
count. As  for  the  judges  of  earth,  xavy  foolish  and 
very  cowardly  would  he  be  who  would  send  you  before 
them,  for  the}'  are  weak  or  hardened  creatures.  Repent, 
for  you  have  cause  to,  but  do  not  betray  3'ourself ;  and 
when  you  feel  that  grace  is  calling  j-ou  to  a  confession  of 
repentance  go  to  some  good  priest,  though  he  may  onl}' 
be  a  poor  barefooted  Carmelite  like  Brother  ^Nicolas. 
And  you,  my  son,"  added  the  good  man,  who  felt  in  a 
preaching  mood  and  wanted  to  sprinkle  me  too  with  his 
hoi}'  water,  "  learn  to  moderate  your  appetites  and  con- 
quer 3'our  passions.  Avoid  occasions  for  sin ;  flee  from 
quarrels  and  bloody  encounters  — " 

"  That  will  do,  that  will  do.  Brother  Nicolas,"  inter- 
rupted Iluriel.  "  You  are  preaching  to  a  believer,  3'ou 
need  not  call  a  man  with  pure  hands  to  repentance.  Fare- 
well.    Go,  I  tell  you  ;  it  is  high  time." 

The  monk  departed,  after  shaking  hands  with  us  kindly 
and  with  a  great  air  of  frankness.  When  he  had  got  to  a 
distance  Huriel,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  led  me  back  to  the 
tree  where  I  had  found  the  monk  in  prayer. 

"  Tiennet,"  he  said,  "  I  have  no  distrust  of  yon,  and  if 
I  compelled  the  good  friar  to  hold  his  tongue  it  was  only 
to  malie  him  cautious.  However,  there  is  no  danger  from 
him.  He  is  own  uncle  to  our  chief  Archignat,  and  he  is, 
moreover,  a  safe  man,  alwa3's  on  good  terms  with  the 
muleteers,  who  often  help  him  to  carr3'  the  provisions  he 
collects  from  one  place  to  another.  But  though  I  am  not 
afraid  of  you  or  of  him,  it  does  not  follow  that  I  should 
tell  3-ou  what  3'ou  have  no  need  to  know,  unless  you  make 
it  a  test  of  m3'  friendship." 

13 


194  The  Bagpipers. 

' '  You  shall  do  as  3'ou  like,"  I  answered.  * '  If  it  is  use^ 
ful  for  3'ou  that  I  should  know  the  results  of  your  fight 
with  Malzac,  tell  me,  even  though  I  may  deeply  regret  to 
hear  them  ;  if  not,  I  would  just  as  soon  not  know  what 
has  become  of  him." 

''What  has  become  of  him!"  echoed  Huriel,  whose 
voice  was  choked  by  some  great  distress.  He  stopped  me 
when  we  reached  the  first  branches  which  the  oak  stretched 
toward  us,  as  if  he  feared  to  tread  upon  a  spot  where  I 
saw  no  trace  of  what  I  was  beginning  to  guess.  Then  he 
added,  casting  a  look  black  with  gloom  before  him,  and 
speaking  as  if  something  were  forcing  him  to  betra}^  him- 
self: '' Tiennet,  do  3'ou  remember  the  threatening  words 
that  man  said  to  us  in  the  woods  of  La  Roche?  — '  There 
is  no  lack  of  ditches  in  the  forest  to  bury  fools  in,  and 
the  stones  and  the  trees  have  no  tongues  to  tell  what  they 
see.' " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  feeling  a  cold  sweat  creeping  over 
my  whole  body.  "  It  seems  that  evil  words  tempt  fate, 
and  bring  disaster  to  those  who  say  them." 


The  Bagpipers,  195 


SEVENTEENTH   EVENING. 

HuRiEL  crossed  himself  and  sighed.  I  did  as  he  did, 
and  then  turning  from  the  accursed  tree  we  went  our 
way. 

I  wished,  as  the  friar  did,  to  say  a  few  comforting 
words  to  him,  for  I  saw  that  his  mind  was  troubled  ;  but, 
besides  being  a  poor  hand  at  moralizing,  I  felt  guilty 
mj^self  after  a  fashion.  I  knew,  for  instance,  that  if  I 
had  not  related  aloud  the  affair  that  happened  in  the 
woods  of  La  Roche,  Huriel  might  not  have  remembered 
his  promise  to  Brulette  to  avenge  her ;  and  that  if  I  had 
not  been  in  such  a  hurr}^  to  be  the  first  to  defend  her  in 
presence  of  the  muleteers  and  the  foresters,  Huriel  would 
not  have  been  so  eager  to  get  that  honor  before  me  in  her 
eyes. 

Worried  by  these  thoughts,  I  could  not  help  telling 
them  to  Huriel  and  blaming  myself  to  him,  just  as  Bru- 
lette had  blamed  herself  to  Therence. 

"  M}^  dear  friend  Tiennet,"  replied  the  muleteer,  '•^yoxx 
are  a  good  fellow  with  a  good  heart.  Don't  trouole  3'our 
conscience  for  a  thing  which  God,  in  the  day  of  judgment, 
will  not  lay  at  your  door,  perhaps  not  at  mine.  Brother 
Nicolas  is  right,  God  is  the  only  judge  who  renders  just 
judgment,  for  he  alone  knows  things  as  they  are.  He 
needs  no  witnesses  and  makes  no  inquir}-  into  the  truth. 
He  reads  all  hearts  ;  he  knows  that  mine  has  never  sworn 
nor  sought  the  death  of  a  man,  even  at  the  moment  when 
I  took  that  stick  to  punish  the  evil-doer.     Those  weapons 


196  The  Bagpipers. 

are  bad,  but  they  are  the  onl}'  ones  wliicli  our  customs 
allow  us  to  use  in  such  cases,  and  I  am  not  responsible 
for  their  use.  C'ertainh'  a  fight  with  fists  alone  would  be 
far  better,  —  such  as  you  and  I  had  that  night  in  3'our 
field,  all  about  my  mules  and  your  oats.  But  let  me  tell 
you  that  a  muleteer  is  bound  to  be  as  brave  and  jealous 
for  his  honor  as  an}^  of  the  great  lords  who  bear  the 
sword.  If  I  had  swallowed  Malzac's  insults  without  de- 
manding reparation  I  should  deserve  to  be  expelled  from 
our  fraternity.  It  is  true  that  I  did  not  demand  it  C00II3', 
as  I  ought  to  have  done.  1  had  met  Malzac  alone  that 
morning,  in  that  same  wood  of  La  Roche,  where  I  was 
quieth'  at  work  without  thinking  of  him.  He  again  an- 
no3'ed  me  with  foolish  language,  declaring  that  Brulette 
was  nothing  better  than  a  dried-wood  picker,  which  means, 
with  us,  a  ghost  that  walks  bj"  night,  —  a  superstition 
which  often  helps  girls  of  bad  lives  to  escape  recognition, 
for  good  people  are  afraid  of  these  ghosts.  So,  among 
muleteers,  who  are  not  as  credulous,  the  term  is  very 
insulting.  Nevertheless,  I  bore  with  him  as  long  as 
possible,  until  at  last,  driven  to  extremities,  I  threatened 
him  in  order  to  drive  him  awa}'.  He  replied  that  I  was 
a  coward,  capable  of  attacking  him  in  a  lonely  place,  but 
that  I  dared  not  challenge  him  to  open  fight  with  sticks 
before  witnesses  ;  that  everybodj'  knew  I  had  never  had 
occasion  to  show  m}^  courage,  for  when  I  was  in  company 
of  others  I  alwa3'^s  agreed  with  what  thej^  said  so  as  not 
to  be  obliged  to  measure  swords  with  them.  Then  he  left 
me,  saying  there  was  a  dance  in  the  woods  of  Chamberat, 
and  that  Brulette  gave  a  supper  to  the  compan}' ;  for  which 
she  had  ample  means,  as  she  was  the  mistress  of  a  rich 
tradesman  in  her  own  countr}^ ;  and,  for  his  part,  he  should 
go  and  amuse  himself  by  courting  the  girl,  in  defiance  of 


The   Bagpipers,  197 

me  if  I  had  courage  to  go  and  see  him  do  it.  You  know, 
Tiennet,  that  I  intended  never  to  see  Brulette  again,  and 
that  for  reasons  which  I  will  tell  you  later." 

"  I  know  them,"  said  I ;  "  and  I  see  that  your  sister 
met  you  to-night ;  for  here,  hanging  to  3'our  ear  below 
the  bandage,  is  a  token  which  proves  something  I  had 
strongly'  suspected." 

"  If  it  is  that  I  love  Brulette  and  value  her  token,"  re- 
plied Hnriel,  "  3-0U  know  all  that  I  know  myself;  but 
3'ou  cannot  know  more,  for  I  am  not  even  sure  of  her 
friendship,  and  as  for  anything  else  —  but  that 's  neither 
here  nor  there.  I  want  to  tell  3'ou  the  ill-luck  that 
brought  me  back  here.  I  did  not  wish  Brulette  to  see 
me,  neither  did  I  mean  to  speak  to  her,  because  I  saw  the 
miser}^  Joseph  endured  on  my  account.  But  I  knew 
Joseph  had  not  the  strength  to  protect  her,  and  that 
Malzac  was  shrewd  and  trick}^  enough  to  escape  you.  So 
I  came  at  the  beginning  of  the  dance,  and  kept  out  of 
sight  under  the  trees,  meaning  to  depart  without  being 
seen,  if  Malzac  did  not  make  his  appearance.  You  know 
the  rest  until  the  moment  when  we  took  the  sticks.  At 
that  moment  I  was  angry,  I  confess  it,  but  it  could  n't 
have  been  otherwise  unless  I  were  a  saint  in  Paradise. 
And  yet  my  only  thought  was  to  give  a  lesson  to  my 
enemy,  and  to  stop  him  from  saying,  especiallj^  while 
Brulette  was  here,  that  because  I  was  gentle  and  patient 
I  was  timid  as  a  hare.  You  saw  that  my  father,  sick  of 
such  talk,  did  not  object  to  my  proving  myself  a  man ; 
but  there  !  ill-luck  surel}'  pursues  me,  when  in  my  first  fight 
and  almost  at  my  first  blow  —  ah !  Tiennet,  there  is 
no  use  sa3ing  I  was  driven  into  it,  or  that  I  feel  within  me 
kind  and  humane ;  that  is  no  consolation  for  having  a 
fatal  hand.     A  man  is  a  man,  no  matter  how  foul-mouthed 


198  The  Bagpipers. 

and  ill-behaved  he  be.  There  was  little  or  no  good  in 
that  one,  but  he  might  have  mended,  and  I  have  sent  him 
to  his  account  before  he  had  come  to  repentance.  Tiennet, 
I  am  sick  of  a  muleteer's  life  ;  I  agree  with  Brulette  that 
it  is  not  eas}"  for  a  God-fearing  man  to  be  one  of  them 
and  maintain  his  own  conscience  and  the  respect  of 
others.  I  am  obliged  to  stay  in  the  craft  for  some  time 
longer,  owing  to  engagements  which  I  have  made ;  but 
3'ou  may  rely  upon  it,  I  shall  give  up  the  business  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  find  another  that  is  quiet  and  decent." 

"  That  is  what  you  want  me  to  tell  Brulette,  is  n't  it?  " 
I  said. 

''  No,"  replied  Huriel,  with  much  decision,  "  not  unless 
Joseph  gets  over  his  love  and  his  illness  so  entirely  as  to 
give  her  up.  I  love  Joseph  as  much  as  3'ou  all  love  him  ; 
besides,  he  told  me  his  secret,  and  asked  my  advice  and 
support ;  I  will  not  deceive  him,  nor  undermine  him." 

"  But  Brulette  does  not  want  him  as  a  lover  or  a  hus- 
band, and  perhaps  he  had  better  know  it  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. I  '11  take  upon  myself  to  reason  with  him,  if  the 
others  dare  not,  for  there  is  somebod}'  in  your  house  who 
could  make  Joseph  happy,  and  he  never  could  be  happy 
with  Brulette.  The  longer  he  waits  and  the  more  he  flat- 
ters himself  she  will  love  him,  the  harder  the  blow  will 
seem  ;  instead  of  which,  if  he  opens  his  eyes  to  the  true 
attachment  he  might  find  elsewhere  —  " 

"Never  mind  that,"  said  Huriel,  frowning  slightly, 
which  made  him  look  like  a  man  who  was  suffering  from  a 
great  hole  in  his  head,  which  in  fact  there  was  under  the 
bloody  handkerchief.  "  All  things  are  in  God's  hand, 
and  in  our  fa  mil}"  nobody  is  in  a  hurr}'  to  make  his  own 
happiness  at  the  expense  of  others.  As  for  me,  I  must 
go,  for  I  could  make  no  lying  answer  to  those  who  might 


The  Bagpipers.  199 

ask  me  where  Malzac  is  and  wh}'  no  one  sees  him  any 
more.  Listen,  however,  to  another  thing  about  Joseph 
and  Brulette.  It  is  better  not  to  tell  them  the  evil  I  have 
done.  Except  the  muleteers,  and  m}'  father  and  sister, 
the  monk  and  j'ou,  no  one  knows  that  when  that  man  fell 
he  never  rose  again.  I  had  only  time  to  sa}^  to  Therence, 
*  He  is  dead,  I  must  leave  these  parts.'  Maitre  Archignat 
said  the  same  thing  to  my  father  ;  but  the  other  foresters 
know  nothing,  and  wish  not  to  know  an3'thing.  The 
monk  himself  would  have  seen  only  part  of  it  if  he  had 
not  followed  us  with  remedies  for  the  wound.  The  mule- 
teers were  inclined  to  send  him  back  at  once,  but  the 
chief  answered  for  him,  and  I,  though  I  might  be  risking 
my  neck,  could  not  endure  that  the  man  should  be  buried 
like  a  dog,  "without  Christian  pra^'er.  The  future  is  in 
God's  hands.  You  understand,  of  course,  that  a  man  in- 
volved as  I  am  in  a  bad  business  cannot,  at  least  for  a 
long  time,  think  of  courting  a  girl  as  much  sought  after 
and  respected  as  Brulette.  But  I  do  ask  you,  for  my 
sake,  not  to  tell  her  the  extent  of  the  trouble  I  am  in.  I 
am  wilUng  she  should  forget  me,  but  not  that  she  should 
hate  or  fear  me." 

"  She  has  no  right  to  do  either,"  I  replied,  "  since  it  was 
for  love  of  her  — " 

"  Ah  I  "  exclaimed  Huriel,  sighing  and  passing  his  hand 
before  his  e3'es,  "  it  is  a  love  that  costs  me  dear !  " 

"  Come,  come,"  I  said,  "  courage  !  she  shall  know  noth- 
ing ;  you  may  rely  upon  my  word ;  and  all  that  I  can  do, 
if  occasion  offers  to  make  her  see  your  merits,  shall  be 
done  faithfull}'." 

"Gently,  gently,  Tiennet,"  returned  Huriel,  "I  don't 
ask  you  to  take  my  side  as  I  take  Joseph's.  You  don't 
know  me  as  well,  neither  do  you  owe  me  the  same  friend- 


200  The  Bagpipers. 

ship  ;  I  know  what  it  is  to  push  another  into  the  place  we 
would  like  to  occupy.  You  care  for  Brulette  yourself; 
and  among  three  lovers,  as  we  are,  two  must  be  just  and 
reasonable  when  the  third  is  preferred.  But,  whatever 
happens,  I  hope  we  shall  all  three  remain  brothers  and 
friends." 

'^  Take  me  out  of  the  list  of  suitors,"  I  said,  smiling 
without  the  least  vexation.  "  I  have  always  been  the 
least  ardent  of  Brulette's  lovers,  and  now  I  am  as  calm  as 
if  I  had  never  dreamed  of  loving  her.  I  know  what  is  in 
the  secret  heart  of  the  girl ;  she  has  made  a  good  choice, 
and  I  am  satisfied.  Adieu,  my  Huriel ;  may  the  good 
God  help  you,  and  give  you  hope,  and  so  enable  3'ou  to 
forget  the  troubles  of  this  bad  night." 

We  clasped  eacli  other  for  good-bye,  and  I  inquired 
where  he   was  going. 

"  To  the  mountains  of  the  Forez,"  he  rephed.  ''  Write 
to  me  at  the  village  of  Huriel,  wliich  is  my  birth-place  and 
where  we  have  relations.  They  will  send  me  your 
letters." 

"  But  can  you  travel  so  far  with  that  wound  in  3'our 
head  ?     Is  n't  it  dangerous  ?  " 

"Oh  no  !  "  he  said,  "  it  is  nothing.  I  wish  the  other's 
head  had  been  as  hard  as  mine  !  " 

When  I  was  alone  I  began  to  think  over  with  amaze- 
ment all  that  must  have  happened  that  night  in  the  forest 
without  m}^  hearing  or  detecting  the  slightest  thing.  I 
was  still  more  surprised  when,  passing  once  more,  in  broad 
daylight,  the  spot  where  the  dance  had  taken  place,  1  saw 
that  since  midnigiit  persons  had  returned  to  mow  the 
grass  and  dig  over  the  ground  to  remove  all  trace  of  what 
had  hai)pened.  In  short,  from  one  direction  persons  had 
come  twice  to  make  things  safe  at  this  particular  point ; 


The  Bagpijoers.  '  201 

from  the  other,  Therence  had  contrived  to  communicate 
with  her  brother ;  and,  besides  all  this,  a  burial  had  been 
performed,  without  the  faintest  appearance  or  the  lightest 
sound  having  warned  me  of  what  was  taking  place,  althougii 
the  night  was  clear  and  I  had  gone  from  end  to  end  of  the 
silent  woods  looking  and  listening  with  the  utmost  atten- 
tion. It  turned  m}'  mind  to  the  difference  between  the 
habits,  and  indeed  the  characters,  of  these  woodland  peo- 
ple and  the  laborers  of  the  open  country.  On  the  plains, 
good  and  evil  are  too  clearly  seen  not  to  make  the  inhabi- 
tants from  their  ^outh  up  submit  to  the  laws  and  behave 
with  prudence.  But  in  the  forests,  where  the  ej'es  of  their 
fellows  can  be  escaped,  men  invoke  no  justice  but  that 
of  God  or  the  devil,  according  as  ih^y  are  well  or  ill 
mtentioned. 

When  I  reached  the  lodges  the  sun  was  up ;  the  Head- 
Woodsman  had  gone  to  his  work  ;  Joseph  was  still  asleep  ; 
Therence  and  Brulette  were  talking  together  under  the 
shed.  They  asked  me  why  I  hud  got  up  so  earl}',  and  I 
noticed  that  Therence  was  uneasy  lest  I  had  seen  or 
heard  something.  I  behaved  as  if  I  knew  nothing,  and 
had  not  gone  farther  than  the  adjoining  wood. 

Joseph  soon  joined  us,  and  I  remarked  that  he  looked 
much  better  than  when  we  arrived. 

*'  Yet  I  have  hardly  slept  all  night,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  was 
restless  till  nearly  day-l^retik  ;  but  I  think  the  reason  was 
that  the  fever  which  has  weakened  me  so  much  left  me 
last  evening,  for  I  feel  stronger  and  more  vigorous  than 
I  have  been  for  a  Ions:  time." 

Therence,  who  understood  fevers,  felt  his  pulse,  and 
then  her  face,  which  looked  very  tired  and  depressed, 
brightened  suddenly. 

"•  See !  "  she  cried ;  "  the  good  God  sends  us  at  least 


202  The  Bagpipers, 

one  happiness ;  here  is  our  patient  on  the  road  to  re- 
covery- !  Tlie  fever  has  gone,  and  his  blood  is  ah-eady 
recovering  strength." 

"  If  3'oa  want  to  know  what  I  have  felt  this  night," 
said  Joseph,  "  3'ou  must  promise  not  to  call  it  a  dream ; 
but  here  it  is —  In  the  first  place,  however,  tell  me  if 
Huriel  got  off  without  a  wound,  and  if  the  other  did  not 
get  more  than  he  wanted.  Have  3'ou  had  any  news  from 
the  forest  of  Chamberat  ?  " 

"  Yes,  3'es/'  replied  Therence,  hastil3\  "  They  have 
both  gone  to  the  upper  country-.  Sa}'  what  yoM  were 
going  to  sa3\" 

''I  don't  know  if  3'ou  will  comprehend  it,  you  two," 
resumed  Joseph,  addressing  the  girls,  "  but  Tiennet  will. 
When  I  saw  Huriel  fight  so  resolutel3-  m3-  knees  gave  wa3' 
under  me,  and,  feeling  weaker  than  an3'  woman,  I  came 
near  losing  consciousness  ;  but  at  the  ver3-  moment  when 
m3'  bod}'  was  giving  wa}-  m3'  heart  grew  hot  within  me, 
and  m3^  e3-es  never  ceased  to  look  at  tlie  fight.  When 
Huriel  struck  the  fellow  down  and  remained  standing  him- 
self, I  could  have  shouted  '  Victory  ! '  like  a  drunken  man, 
if  I  had  not  restrained  m3'self ;  I  would  have  rushed  if  I 
could  to  embrace  him.  But  the  impulse  was  soon  gone, 
and  when  I  got  back  here  I  felt  as  though  I  had  received 
and  given  ever3'  blow,  and  as  if  all  the  bones  in  m3'  bod3' 
were  broken." 

"  Don't  think  an3^  more  about  it,"  said  Therence ;  "it 
was  a  horrid  thing  to  see  and  recollect.  I  dare  sa3'  it 
gave  3'ou  bad  dreams  last  night." 

"  I  did  not  dream  at  all,"  said  Joseph  ;  ^'I  la3^  thinking, 
and  little  b3'  little  I  felt  m3'  mind  awakened  and  m3'  body 
healed,  as  if  the  time  had  come  to  take  up  m3'  bed  and 
walk,  like  the  paralytic  of  the  Gospels.     I  saw  Huriel 


The  Bagpipers.  203 

before  me,  shining  with  light ;  he  blamed  my  illness,  and 
declared  it  was  a  cowardice  of  the  mind.  He  seemed 
to  say:  *I  am  a  man,  you  are  a  child;  3'OLi  shake  with 
fever  while  my  blood  is  fire.  You  are  good  for  nothing, 
but  I  am  good  in  all  wa^'s,  for  others  and  for  myself. 
Come,  listen  to  this  music'  And  I  heard  an  air  mutter- 
ing like  a  storm,  which  raised  me  in  my  bed  as  the  wind 
lifts  the  fallen  leaves.  Ah,  Brulette,  I  think  I  have  done 
with  being  ill  and  cowardly  ;  I  can  go  now  to  m}^  own 
countr}'  and  kiss  m}'  mother,  and  make  mj'  plans  to  start, 
—  for  start  I  must,  upon  a  journe}' ;  I  must  see  and  learn, 
and  make  m\'self  what  I  should  be." 

*'You  wish  to  travel?"  said  Therence,  her  face,  so 
lately  lighted  like  a  star  with  pleasure,  growing  white  and 
cloudy  as  an  autumn  moon.  "  You  think  to  find  a  better 
teacher  than  my  father,  and  better  friends  than  people 
here  ?  Go  and  see  your  mother  ;  that  is  right,  if  3'ou  are 
strong  enough  to  go, — unless,  indeed,  3'ou  are  deceiving 
us  and  longing  to  die  in  distant  parts  —  " 

Grief  and  displeasure  choked  her  voice.  Joseph,  who 
watched  her,  suddenty  changed  both  his  language  and  his 
manner. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  have  been  dreaming  this  morn- 
ing, Therence,"  he  said;  *' I  shall  never  find  a  better 
master  or  better  friends.  You  asked  me  to  tell  my 
dreams,  and  I  did  tell  them,  that  is  all.  When  I  am 
cured  I  shall  ask  advice  of  all  three  of  you,  and  of  3'our 
father  also.  Till  then  pa3"  no  attention  to  what  comes 
into  m3'  head ;  let  us  be  happ3^  for  the  time  that  we  are 
together." 

Therence  was  pacified  ;  but  Brulette  and  I,  who  knew 
how  dogged  and  obstinate  Joseph  could  be  under  his 
gentle  manner,  and  remembered  how  he  had  left  us  with- 


204  The  Bagpipers. 

out  allowing  us  a  chance  to  remonstrate  or  persuade  him, 
felt  sure  that  his  mind  was  alread3'  fully  made  up,  and  that 
no  one  could  change  it. 

During  the  next  two  days  I  once  more  felt  dreadfully 
dull;  and  so  did  Brulette,  though  she  amused  herself  by 
finishing  the  embroidery  she  wanted  to  give  Therence, 
and  spent  some  hours  in  the  woods  with  Pere  Bastien, 
parth'  to  leave  Joseph  to  the  care  of  Therence,  and  partly 
to  talk  of  Huriel  and  comfort  the  worthy  ruan  for  the 
danger  and  distress  the  fight  had  caused  him.  The  Head- 
Woodsman,  touched  b3'  the  friendship  which  she  showed 
him,  told  her  the  truth  about  Malzac,  and,  far  from  her 
blaming  Huriel,  as  the  latter  had  feared,  it  only  drew  her 
closer  to  him  through  the  gratitude  which  she  now  felt  she 
owed  him. 

On  the  sixth  da}-  we  began  to  talk  of  separating. 
Joseph  was  getting  better  hourl}^ ;  he  worked  a  little,  and 
did  his  best  in  every  wa}'  to  recover  his  strength.  He 
had  decided  to  go  with  us  and  spend  a  few  days  at  home, 
sa3ing  that  he  should  return  almost  immediately  to  the 
woods  of  AUeu,  — which  Brulette  and  I  doubted,  and  so  did 
Therence,  who  was  almost  as  uneasy  about  his  health  as 
she  had  been  about  his  illness.  I  don't  know  if  it  was  she 
who  persuaded  her  father  to  accompany  us  half-wa}',  or 
whether  the  notion  came  into  Pere  Bastien's  own  mind  ; 
at  au}^  rate,  he  made  us  the  offer,  which  Brulette  instantly 
accepted.  Joseph  was  only  half  pleased  at  this,  though 
he  tried  not  to  show  it. 

The  little  trip  naturally  diverted  the  Head- Woodsman's 
thoughts  from  his  anxieties,  and  while  making  his  prepa- 
rations the  evening  before  our  deiiarture  he  recovered 
much  of  his  natural  fine  spirits.  The  muleteers  had  left 
the   neighborhood    without   hindrance,    and    nothing   had 


The  Bagpipers.  205 

been  said  about  Malzac,  who  had  neither  relations  nor 
friends  to  inquire  for  him.  A  3'ear  or  two  might  go  by 
before  the  authorities  troubled  themselves  to  know  what 
had  become  of  him,  and  indeed,  they  might  never  do  so ; 
for  in  those  days  there  was  no  great  policing  in  France, 
and  a  man  might  disappear  without  any  notice  being 
taken  of  it.  Moreover,  the  Head-Woodsman  and  his  familj^ 
would  leave  those  parts  at  the  end  of  the  chopping  season, 
and  as  father  and  son  never  staj^ed  six  months  in  the 
same  place,  the  law  would  be  very  clever  indeed  to  know 
where  to  catch  them. 

For  these  reasons  the  Head- Woodsman,  who  had  feared 
onlj'  the  first  results  of  the  affair,  finding  that  no  one  got 
wind  of  the  secret,  grew  eas}*  in  mind  and  so  restored 
our  courage. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  he  put  us  all  into 
a  little  cart  he  had  borrowed,  together  with  a  horse,  from 
a  friend  of  his  in  the  forest,  and  taking  the  reins  he 
drove  us  by  the  longest  but  safest  road  to  Saint-Severe, 
where  we  were  to  part  from  him  and  his  daughter. 

Brulette  inwardl}'  regretted  returning  hy  a  new  wa}', 
where  she  could  not  revisit  an}'  of  the  scenes  she  had 
passed  through  with  Huriel.  As  for  me,  I  was  glad  to 
travel  and  to  see  Saint-Pallais  in  Bourbonnais  and  Preve- 
ranges,  two  little  villages  on  the  heights,  also  Saint-Prejet 
and  Perassa}',  other  villages  lower  down  along  the  banks 
of  the  Indre  ;  moreover,  as  we  followed  that  river  from 
its  source  and  I  remembered  that  it  ran  through  our 
village  I  no  longer  felt  ni3'self  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land.  When  we  reached  Saint-Severe,  I  felt  at  home, 
for  it  is  onl}'  six  leagues  from  onr  place,  and  I  had  already 
been  there  two  or  three  times.  While  the  rest  were  bidding 
each  other  farewell,  I  went  to  hire  a  convej'antie  to  take 


206  The  Bagpipers. 

us  to  Nohant,  but  I  could  only  find  one  for  the  next 
day  as  earl3'  as  I  wanted  it. 

When  I  returned  and  reported  the  fact,  Joseph  seemed 
annoj'ed.  "What  do  we  want  with  a  conveyance ?"  he 
said.  "  Can't  we  start  in  the  fresh  of  the  morning  on  foot 
and  get  home  in  the  cool  of  the  evening?  Brulette  has 
walked  that  distance  often  enough  to  dance  at  some  as- 
semblj',  and  I  feel  able  to  do  as  much  as  she." 

Therence  remarked  that  so  long  a  walk  might  bring 
back  his  fever,  and  that  only  made  him  more  obstinate ; 
but  Brulette,  seeing  Therence's  vexation,  cut  the  matter 
short  b}'  sa3'ing  she  was  too  tired,  and  she  would  prefer  to 
23ass  the  night  at  the  inn  and  start  in  a  carriage  the  next 
morning. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  "  Therence  and 
I  will  do  the  same.  Our  horse  shall  rest  here  for  the 
night,  and  we  will  part  from  3'ou  at  daybreak  to-morrow 
morning.  But  instead  of  eating  our  meal  in  this  inn 
which  is  full  of  flies,  I  propose  that  we  take  the  dinner 
into  some  shadj'  place  or  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  and 
sit  there  and  talk  till  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed." 

So  said,  so  done.  I  engaged  two  bedrooms,  one  for 
the  girls,  the  other  for  us  men,  and  wishing  to  entertain 
Pere  Bastien  (who  I  had  noticed  was  a  good  eater)  ac- 
cording to  ni}'  own  ideas,  I  filled  a  big  basket  with  the  best 
the  inn  could  afford  in  pates,  white  bread,  wine,  and  wine- 
brand}',  and  carried  it  outside  the  village.  It  was  lucky 
that  the  present  fashion  of  drinking  coff'ee  and  beer  did 
not  exist  in  those  days,  for  I  should  n't  have  spared  the 
cost,  and  m}'  pockets  would  have  been  emptied. 

Saint-Severe  is  a  fine  neighborhood,  cut  into  b}'  ravines 
that  are  well  watered  and  refreshing  to  the  eye.  We 
chose  a   spot  of  rising   ground,  where   the   air  was   so 


The  Bagpipers.  207 

exhilarating  that  not  a  crust  nor  a  drop  remained  after 
the  feast.  Presently  Pere  Bastien,  feeling  lively,  picked 
up  his  bagpipe,  which  never  left  him,  and  said  to 
Joseph : — 

"My  lad,  we  never  know  who  is  to  live  or  who  to 
die  ;  we  are  parting,  3^ou  sa}^,  for  tliree  or  four  da3's ;  in 
my  opinion,  you  are  thinking  of  a  much  longer  absence ; 
and  it  may  be  in  God's  mind  that  we  shall  never  meet 
again.  This  is  what  all  persons  who  part  at  the  cross- 
ways  ought  to  say  and  feel  to  each  other.  I  hope  that 
you  leave  us  satisfied  with  me  and  with  my  children  ;  I 
am  satisfied  with  3'ou  and  with  3"0ur  friends  here ;  but  I  do 
not  forget  that  the  prime  object  of  all  was  to  teach  3'ou 
music,  and  I  regret  that  your  two  months'  illness  put  a 
stop  to  it.  I  don't  sa3"  that  I  could  have  made  you  a 
learned  musician  ;  I  know  there  are  such  in  the  cities, 
both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  pla3'  instruments  that  we 
know  nothing  about,  and  read  off  written  airs  just  as  others 
read  words  in  a  book.  Except  chanting,  which  I  learned 
in  m3"  3"outh,  I  know  ver3^  little  of  such  music,  and  I  have 
taught  3'OU  all  I  know,  nameh',  the  keys,  notes,  and  time 
measures.  If  3'ou  desire  to  know  more  you  must  go  to 
the  great  cities,  where  the  violinists  will  teach  you  both 
minuet  and  quadrille  music ;  but  I  don't  know  what  good 
that  would  be  to  you  unless  3'ou  want  to  leave  your  own 
parts  and  renounce  the  position  of  peasant." 

''  God  forbid  !  "  replied  Joseph,  looking  at  Brule tte. 

*' Therefore,"  continued  the  Head- Woodsman,  "  3'ou 
will  have  to  look  elsewhere  for  instruction  on  the  bagpipe 
or  the  hurdy-gurdy.  If  3'ou  choose  to  come  back  to  me,  I 
will  help  3'OU  ;  but  if  3'ou  think  3'ou  can  do  better  in  the 
Upper  countr3%  3'ou  must  go  there.  What  I  should  wish 
to  do  would  be  to  guide  you  SI0WI3'  till  3'our  lungs  grew 


208  The  Bagpipers, 

so  strong  that  3^011  could  use  them  without  effort,  and  your 
fingers  no  longer  failed  30U.  As  for  the  idea  within  us,  that 
can't  be  taught ;  you  have  3'our  own,  and  I  know  it  to  be  of 
good  quality'.  I  gave  you,  however,  what  was  in  my  own 
head,  and  whatever  3'ou  can  remember  of  it  3'ou  ma}'  use 
as  3'ou  like.  But  as  3'our  wish  seems  to  be  to  compose, 
you  can't  do  better  than  travel  about,  and  so  compare 
3'our  ideas  and  stock  of  knowledge  with  that  of  others. 
You  had  better  go  as  far  up  as  Auvergne  and  the  Forez, 
and  see  how  grand  and  beautiful  the  world  is  beyond  our 
valle3'S,  and  how  the  heart  swells  when  we  stand  on  the 
heights  of  a  real  mountain,  and  behold  the  waters,  whose 
voice  is  louder  than  the  voice  of  man,  rolling  downward  to 
nourish  the  trees  the  verdure  of  which  never  dies.  Don't 
go  into  the  lowlands  of  those  other  regions.  You  will 
find  there  what  3'Ou  have  left  in  3'our  own  countr3',  and 
that  is  n't  what  you  want.  Now  is  the  time  to  give  you 
a  bit  of  information  which  3'ou  should  never  forget ;  listen 
carefully  to  what  I  say  to  3'OU." 


The  Bagpipers.  209 


EIGHTEENTH  EVENING. 

Pere  Bastien,  observing  that  Joseph  listened  with  great 
attention,  continued  as  follows  :  — 

"Music  has  two  modes  which  the  learned,  as  I  have 
heard  tell,  call  major  and^  minor,  but  which  I  call  the  clear 
mode  and  the  troubled  mode  ;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  the 
bkie-sky  mode  and  the  gray-sk}'  mode,  or,  still  otherwise, 
the  mode  of  strength  and  joy,  and  the  mode  of  dreaminess 
and  gloom.  You  may  search  till  morning  and  you  wnll 
find  no  end  to  the  contrasts  between  the  two  modes  ;  but 
you  will  nevei'  find  a  third,  for  all  things  on  this  earth  are 
light  or  darkness,  rest  or  action.  Now  listen  to  me, 
Joseph  !  The  plains  sing  in  the  major,  and  the  mountains 
in  the  minor  mode.  If  3'ou  had  stayed  in  3'our  own  coun- 
tr}'  your  ideas  would  belong  to  the  clear  and  tranquil 
mode ;  in  returning  there  now,  you  ought  to  see  the  use 
that  a  soul  like  yours  could  make  of  that  mode  ;  for  the 
one  mode  is  neither  less  nor  more  than  the  other.  But 
while  3'ou  lived  at  home,  feeling  3'ourself  a  thorough  musi- 
cian, you  fretted  at  not  hearing  the  minor  sound  in  3'our 
ears.  The  fiddlers  and  the  singing-girls  of  3'our  parts  onl3' 
acquire  it ;  for  song  is  like  the  wind  which  blows  ever3'- 
where  and  carries  the  seeds  of  plants  from  one  horizon  to 
another.  But  inasmuch  as  nature  has  not  made  3'our  peo- 
ple dream3'  and  passionate,  the3'  make  a  poor  use  of  the 
minor  mode,  and  corrupt  it  hy  that  use.  That  is  wh3'  3'ou 
thought  your  bagpipes  were  always  false.  Now,  if  3'ou 
want  to  understand  the  minor,  go  seek  it  in  wild  and  deso- 

li 


210  The  Bagpipers, 

late  places,  and  learn  that  man}-  a  tear  must  be  shed 
before  3'ou  can  dul}'  use  a  mode  which  was  given  to  man 
to  utter  his  griefs,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  sigh  his  love." 

Joseph  understood  Pere  Bastien  so  well  that  he  asked 
him  to  play  the  last  air  he  had  composed,  so  as  to  give  us 
a  specimen  of  the  sad  gray  mode  which  he  called  the 
minor. 

"  There,  there  !  "  cried  the  old  man  ;  "  so  3'ou  overheard 
the  air  I  have  been  trj'ing  for  the  last  week  to  put  to  cer- 
tain words.  I  thought  I  was  singing  to  myself;  but,  as 
you  were  listening,  here  it  is,  such  as  I  expect  to  leave 
it." 

Lifting  his  bagpipe  he  removed  the  chanter,  on  which 
he  softly  played  an  air  which,  though  it  was  not  melan- 
choly, brought  memories  of  the  past  and  a  sense  of  long- 
ing after  many  things  to  the  consciousness  of  those  who 
listened. 

Joseph  was  evidently  not  at  ease,  and  Brulette,  who 
listened  without  stirring,  seemed  to  waken  from  a  dream 
when  it  ended. 

"  And  the  words,"  said  Therence,  "  are  they  sad  too, 
father?" 

"The  words,"  said  he,  "  are,  like  the  air,  rather  con- 
fused and  demand  reflection.  They  tell  the  story  of  how 
three  lovers  courted  a  girl." 

Whereupon  he  sang  a  song,  now  ver}^  popular  in  our 
parts,  though  the  words  have  been  a  good  deal  altered ; 
but  this  is  how  the  Pere  Bastien  sang  them :  — 

Three  woodsmen  there  were, 
In  springtime,  on  the  grass 
(Listen  to  the  nightingale)  ; 
Three  woodsnien  were  there, 
Speaking  each  with  the  lass. 


The  Bagpipers.  211 

The  youngest  he  said, 
He  who  held  the  flower 
(Listen  to  the  nightingale), 
The  youngest  then  said  he 
I  love  thee,  but  I  cower. 

The  oldest  cried  out, 
He  who  held  the  tool 
(Listen  to  the  nightingale), 
The  oldest  cried  aloud. 
When  I  love  I  rule. 

The  third  sang  to  her, 
Bearing  the  almond  spray 

(Listen  to  the  nightingale), 
The  third  sang  in  her  ear, 
I  love  thee  and  I  pray. 

Friend  shall  never  be 
You  who  bear  the  flower 
(Listen  to  the  nightingale), 
Friend  shall  never  be 
A  coward,  or  I  cower. 

Master  will  I  none, 
You  who  hold  the  tool 
(Listen  to  the  nightingale), 
No  master  thou  of  mine, 
Love  obeys  no  rule. 

Lover  thou  shalt  be 
Who  bear  the  almond  spray 
(Listen  to  the  nightingale), 
My  lover  shalt  thou  be. 
Gifts  are  for  those  who  pray. 

I  liked  the  air  when  joined  to  the  words  better  than  the 
first  time  I  beard  it ;  and  I  was  so  pleased  that  I  asked  to 


212  The  Bag'pipers. 

hear  it  again  ;  bat  Pere  Bastien,  who  had  no  vanity  about 
his  compositions,  declared  it  was  not  worth  while,  and 
went  on  pla3ing  other  airs,  sometimes  in  tlie  major,  some- 
times in  the  minor,  and  even  employing  both  modes  in  the 
same  song,  teaching  Joseph,  as  he  did  so,  how  to  pass 
from  one  to  the  other  and  then  back  again. 

The  stars  were  casting  their  light  long  before  we  wanted 
to  retire  ;  even  the  townspeople  assembled  in  numbers  at 
the  foot  of  the  ravine  to  listen,  with  much  satisfaction  to 
their  ears.  Some  said  :  "  That 's  one  of  the  Bourbonnais 
bagpipers,  and  what  is  more,  he  is  a  master ;  he  knows 
the  art,  and  not  one  of  us  can  hold  a  candle  to  him." 

On  our  wa}^  back  to  the  inn  Pere  Bastien  continued  to 
instruct  Joseph,  and  the  latter,  never  weary  of  such  talk, 
lagged  a  little  behind  us  to  listen  and  question  him.  So 
I  walked  in  front  wath  Therence,  who,  useful  and 
energetic  as  ever,  helped  me  to  carr}'  the  baskets.  Bru- 
lette  walked  alone  between  the  pairs,  dreaming  of  I  don't 
know  what,  —  as  she  had  taken  to  doing  of  late  ;  and  The- 
rence sometimes  turned  round  as  if  to  look  at  her,  but 
real]}"  to  see  if  Joseph  were  following. 

"  Look  at  him  well,  Therence,"  I  said  to  her,  at  a  mo- 
ment when  she  seemed  in  great  anxictj^,  "  for  your  fLither 
said  trul}',  '  When  we  part  for  a  da}^  it  m^y  be  for  life.'  " 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "  but  on  the  other  hand,  when  we 
think  we  are  parting  for  life  it  ma}'  be  for  only  a  day." 

"You  remind  me,"  said  I,  "  that  when  I  first  saw  you 
3'ou  floated  away  like  a  dream  and  I  never  expected  to  see 
you  again." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  exclaimed.  My  father 
reminded  me  of  it  yesterday,  in  speaking  of  you.  Father 
reall}-  loves  you,  Tiennet,  and  has  great  respect  for  3'ou." 

"  I  am  glad  and  honored,  Therence  ;  but  I  don't  know 


TJie  Bar/pipers.  213 

what  I  have  done  to  deserve  it,  for  there  is  nothing  in  me 
that  is  different  from  the  common  run  of  men." 

"  My  father  is  never  mistaken  in  his  judgment,  and 
what  he  says,  I  beheve  ;  why  should  that  make  3'ou  sigh, 
Tiennet?" 

"  Did  I  sigh,  Th^rence?  I  didn't  mean  to." 

"No,  of  course  you  did  not,"  she  replied;  "but  that 
is  no  reason  why  j'ou  should  hide  your  feelings  from  me. 
You  love  Brulette  and  are  afraid  —  " 

"I  love  Brulette  ver}'  much,  that  is  true,  but  without 
any  love-sighing,  and  without  an}'  regrets  or  worries 
about  what  she  thinks  of  me.  I  have  no  love  in  my  heart, 
because  it  would  do  me  no  good  to  have  an}-." 

"  Ah,  3-0U  are  verj-  lucky,  Tiennet !  "  she  cried,  "  to  be 
able  to  govern  your  feelings  by  3-our  mind  in  that  way." 

"I  should  be  better  worth  something,  Therence,  if, 
like  3-0U,  I  governed  them  by  my  heart.  Yes,  yes,  I 
know  you ;  I  have  watched  you,  and  I  know  the  true 
secret  of  3'our  conduct.  T  have  seen  how,  for  the  last 
eight  days,  3'ou  have  set  aside  3'our  own  feelings  to  cure 
Joseph,  and  how  3'ou  secretl3"  do  everything  for  his  good 
without  letting  him  see  so  much  as  3'our  little  finger  in  it. 
You  want  him  to  be  happ3',  and  3'ou  said  true  when  vou 
told  Brulette  and  me  that  if  we  can  do  good  to  those 
we  love  there  is  no  need  to  be  thinking  of  our  own 
happiness.  That 's  what  3'ou  do  and  what  3-ou  are  ;  and 
though  jealous3'  ma3'  sometimes  get  the  better  of  you,  3-ou 
recover  directl3\  It  is  marvellous  to  see  how  strong  and 
generous  3-ou  are  ;  it  is  saintl3-.  You  must  allow  that  if 
either  of  ns  two  is  to  respect  the  other,  it  is  I  3-ou,  not 
3-0U  me.  I  am  a  rather  sensible  fellow,  and  that  is  all ; 
you  are  a  girl  with  a  great  heart,  and  a  stern  hand  upon 
3-ourself." 


214  The  Bagpipers. 

"  Thanks  for  the  good  you  think  of  me,"  repHed  The- 
rence,  "but  perhaps  I  don't  deserve  it,  my  lad.  You 
want  me  to  be  in  love  with  Joseph,  and  I  am  not.  As  God 
is  ray  judge,  I  have  never  thought  of  being  his  wife,  and 
the  attachment  I  feel  to  him  is  rather  that  of  a  sister  or 
a  mother." 

"  Oh  !  as  for  that,  I  am  not  sure  that  j'ou  don't  deceive 
3'ourself,  Therence.     Your  disposition  is  impulsive." 

"That  is  just  why  I  do  not  deceive  myself.  I  love  my 
father  and  brother  deepl}^  and  almost  madly.  If  I  had 
children  I  should  defend  them  like  a  wolf  and  brood  over 
them  like  a  hen ;  but  the  thing  they  call  love,  such,  for 
instance,  as  my  brother  feels  for  Brulette,  — the  desire  to 
please,  and  a  nameless  sort  of  feeling  which  makes  him 
suffer  when  alone,  and  not  be  able  to  think  of  her  without 
pain,  —  all  that  I  do  not  feel  at  all,  and  I  cannot  imagine  it. 
Joseph  ma}^  leave  us  forever  if  it  will  do  him  good,  and 
I  shall  thank  God,  and  onl}^  grieve  if  it  turns  out  that  he 
is  the  worse  for  it." 

Therence's  way  of  looking  at  the  matter  gave  me  a  good 
deal  to  think  of.  I  could  not  understand  it  very  well,  for 
she  now  seemed  to  me  above  all  others  and  above  me. 
I  walked  a  little  wa}'-  beside  her  without  saying  a  word, 
not  knowing  whither  my  mind  was  going  ;  for  I  was  seized 
with  such  a  feeling  of  ardent  friendship  that  I  longed  with 
all  my  heart  to  embrace  her,  with  all  respect  and  thinking 
no  harm,  till  suddenly  a  glance  at  her,  so  young  and 
beautiful,  filled  me  with  shame  and  fear.  When  we 
reached  the  inn  I  asked  her,  apropos  of  what  I  forget,  to 
tell  me  exactly  what  her  father  had  said  of  me. 

"  He  said,"  she  replied,  "  that  you  were  a  man  of  the 
strongest  good  sense  he  had  ever  known." 

"  You  might   as  well  call  me  a  good-natured  fool  at 


The  Bagpipers.  215 

once,  don't  j'ou  think  so?"  I  said,  laughing,  but  rather 
mortified. 

''  Not  at  all !  "  cried  Therence  ;  "  here  are  my  father's 
very  words :  '  He  who  sees  clearest  into  the  things  of 
this  world  is  he  who  acts  with  the  highest  justice.'  Now 
it  is  true  that  great  good  sense  leads  to  great  kind- 
ness of  heart,  and  I  do  not  think  that  my  father  is 
mistaken." 

"  In  that  case,  Therence,"  I  cried,  rather  agitated  at  the 
bottom  of  m}'  heart,  "have  a  little  regard  for  me." 

"  I  have  a  great  deal,"  she  said,  shaking  the  hand 
which  I  held  out  to  her ;  but  it  was  said  with  an  air  of 
good-fellowship  which  killed  all  vaporing,  and  I  slept 
upon  her  speech  with  no  more  imagination  than  justly 
belonged  to  it. 

The  next  day  came  the  parting.  Brulette  cried  when 
she  kissed  Pere  Bastien,  and  made  him  promise  that  he 
would  come  and  visit  us  and  bring  Therence ;  then  the 
two  dear  girls  embraced  each  other  with  such  pledges  of 
affection  that  they  really  seemed  unable  to  part.  Joseph 
offered  his  thanks  to  his  late  master  for  all  the  benefits  he 
had  received  from  him,  and  when  he  came  to  part  with 
Therence  he  tried  to  say  the  same  to  her ;  but  she  looked 
at  him  with  a  perfect  frankness  which  disconcerted  him, 
and  pressing  each  other's  hands,  they  said  only,  ''  Good- 
bye, and  take  care  of  j'ourself" 

Not  feeling  at  the  moment  too  sh}',  I  asked  Therence 
to  allow  me  to  kiss  her,  thinking  to  set  a  good  example 
to  Joseph  ;  but  he  took  no  notice,  and  got  hastil}"  into  the 
carriage  to  cut  short  these  parting  civilities.  He  seemed 
dissatisfied  with  himself  and  others.  Brulette  took  the 
last  seat  in  the  conveyance,  and,  so  long  as  she  could  see 
our  Bourbonnais  friends,  she  kept  her  e3'es  upon  them, 


216  The  Bagpipers. 

while  Therence,  standing  at  the  inn-door,  seemed  to  be 
thinking  rather  than  grieving. 

We  did  the  rest  of  the  journey  somewhat  sadly.  Joseph 
said  not  a  word.  Perhaps  he  hoped  that  Brulette  might 
take  some  notice  of  him  ;  but  according  as  Joseph  grew 
stronger,  Brulette  had  recovered  her  freedom  of  thinking 
about  other  people,  and  being  full  of  her  friendship  for 
Huriel's  father  and  sister,  she  talked  to  me  about  them, 
regretting  to  part  with  them  and  singing  their  praises,  as 
if  she  had  really  left  her  heart  behind  and  regretted  even 
the  country  we  were  quitting. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  said  to  me,  "  how,  as  we  get  nearer 
home,  the  trees  seem  to  me  so  small,  the  grass  so  3'ellow, 
and  the  river  sluggish.  Before  I  ever  left  the  plains  I 
fancied  I  could  not  endure  three  days  in  the  woods,  and 
now  I  believe  I  could  pass  my  life  there  like  Therence,  if 
I  had  m^'  old  father  with  me." 

"  I  can't  say  as  much,  cousin,"  said  I.  "Though,  if 
I  were  forced  to  do  so,  I  don't  suppose  I  should  die  of  it. 
But  the  trees  ma}^  be  as  tall,  the  grass  as  green,  and  the 
streams  as  sparkling  as  they  please ;  I  prefer  a  nettle  in 
m}'  own  land  to  an  oak  in  foreign  parts.  Mj-  heart  jumps 
with  joy  at  each  familiar  rock  and  bush,  as  if  I  had  been 
absent  two  or  three  3'ears,  and  when  I  catch  sight  of  the 
church  clock  I  mean,  for  sure,  to  take  oflf  m}'  hat  to  it." 

"  And  3'^ou,  Jose?"  said  Brulette,  noticing  the  annoj'ed 
look  of  our  companion  for  the  first  time.  "You,  who 
have  been  absent  more  than  a  3'ear,  are  not  3'ou  glad  to 
get  home  again?" 

"  Excuse  me,  Brulette,  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talk- 
ing about.  My  head  is  full  of  that  song  the  Head- Woods- 
man santr  last  nio;ht,  and  in  the  middle  of  it  there  is  a 
little  refrain  which  I  can't  remember." 


The  Bagpipers.  217 

**Bah!"  cried  Brulette,  '*it  is  where  the  song  says, 
*  Listen  to  the  nightingale.' " 

So  sa3'ing,  she  sang  the  tune  quite  correctly,  which 
roused  Joseph  so  much  that  he  jumped  with  joy  in  the 
cart,  clapping  his  hands. 

"  Ah,  Brulette  !  "  he  cried,  "  how  lucky  you  are  to 
remember  like  that!  Again!  sing  it  again!  'Listen  to 
the  nightingale.' " 

'•  I  would  rather  sing  the  whole  song,"  she  answered; 
and  thereupon  she  sang  it  straight  through  without  missing 
a  word,  which  delighted  Joseph  so  much  that  he  pressed 
her  hands,  saying,  with  a  courage  I  did  n't  think  him  capa- 
ble of,  that  on!}'  a  musician  could  be  worth}'  of  her. 

"Well,  certainl}',"  said  Brulette,  thinking  of  Huriel, 
"  if  I  had  a  lover  I  should  wish  him  to  be  both  a  good 
singer  and  a  good  bagpiper." 

"It  is  rare  to  be  both,"  returned  Joseph.  "  A  bag- 
pipe ruins  the  voice,  and  except  the  Head- Woodsman  — " 

"  And  his  son,"  said  Brulette,  heedlessly. 

I  nudged  her  elbow,  and  she  began  to  talk  of  something 
else,  but  Joseph,  who  was  eaten  up  with  jealous}^  persisted 
in  harking  back  to  the  song. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  "that  when  Pere  Bastien  com- 
posed those  words  he  was  thinking  of  three  fellows  of  our 
acquaintance  ;  for  I  remember  a  talk  we  had  with  him 
after  supper  the  day  of  your  arrival  in  the  forest." 

"  I  don't  remember  it,"  said  Brulette,  blushing. 

"  But  I  do,"  returned  Joseph.  "  We  were  speaking  of 
a  girl's  love,  and  Huriel  said  it  could  n't  be  won  b}'  toss- 
ing up  for  it.  Tiennet  declared,  laughing,  that  softness 
and  submission  were  of  no  use,  and  to  be  loved  we  must 
needs  be  feared,  instead  of  being  too  kind  and  good. 
Huriel  argued  against  Tiennet,  and  I  listened  without  say- 


218  The  Bagpipers. 

ing  a  woi'd.  Am  not  I  the  one  who  *  bears  the  flower,  — 
the  3'oungest  of  the  three,  who  loves  and  cowers'  ?  Repeat 
the  last  verse,  Brulette,  as  you  know  it  so  well  —  about 
'  gifts  for  those  who  ask.'  " 

"  Since  3'ou  know  it  as  well  as  I  do,"  said  Brulette,  rather 
nettled,  "keep  it  to  sing  to  the  first  girl  3'ou  make  love 
to.  If  Pere  Bastien  likes  to  turn  the  talk  he  hears  into 
sono-s,  it  is  not  for  me  to  draw  conclusions.  Besides,  I 
know  nothing  about  it.  But  my  feet  are  tingling  with 
cold,  and  while  the  horse  walks  up  this  hill,  I  shall  take  a 
run  to  warm  them." 

Not  waiting  till  I  could  stop  the  horse,  she  jumped  on 
to  the  road  and  walked  off  in  front  of  us  as  light  as  a  little 
milkmaid. 

I  wanted  to  get  down  too,  but  Joseph  caught  me  by  the 
arm  and,  always  pursuing  his  own  ideas,  "Don't  you 
think, "  said  he,  "  that  we  despise  those  who  show  their 
desires  as  much  as  those  who  do  not  show  them  at  all?  " 

"  If  you  mean  me  —  " 

"  I  mean  no  one.  I  was  only  thinking  of  the  talk  we 
had  over  there,  which  Pere  Bastien  turned  into  a  song 
against  your  speech  and  my  silence.  It  seems  that  Huriel 
will  win  his  suit  with  the  girl." 

"  What  girl?  "  I  said,  out  of  patience,  for  Joseph  had 
never  taken  me  into  his  confidence  before,  and  I  was  none 
too  pleased  to  have  him  give  it  out  of  vexation. 

"  What  girl?  "  he  cried  in  a  tone  of  angry  sarcasm,  ^'  the 
girl  of  the  song." 

"Then  what  suit  is  Huriel  to  win?  does  the  girl  Uve  at 
a  distance  ?   is  that  where  Huriel  has  gone  ?  " 

Joseph  thought  a  moment  and  then  continued:  "It  is 
true  enough,  what  he  said,  that  between  mastership  and 
silence,    there    is    prayer.      That    comes   round   to   your 


/         The  Bagpipers,  219 

first  remark,  that  in  order  to  attract  we  must  not  love  too 
well.  He  who  loves  too  well  is  the  timid,  silent  one  ;  not 
a  word  can  he  tear  from  his  throat,  and  he  is  thought  a 
fool  because  he  is  dumb  with  desire  and  false  shame." 

"  No  doubt  of  that,"  I  said.  "  I  have  gone  through  it  m}'- 
self  many  a  time.  But  it  also  happened  to  me  sometimes 
to  speak  out  so  badl}^  that  I  had  better  have  held  my 
tongue ;  I  might  have  fancied  m3'self  beloved  a  little 
longer." 

Poor  Joseph  bit  his  lips  and  said  no  more.  I  was  sorry 
I  had  vexed  him,  and  3'et  I  could  not  prevent  mj'self  from 
resenting  his  jealousy  of  Huriel,  knowing  as  I  did  how  the 
latter  had  done  his  best  for  him  against  his  own  interests. 
I  took,  at  this  very  time,  such  a  disgust  for  jealousy  that 
since  then  I  have  never  felt  a  twinge  of  it,  and  I  don't 
think  I  could  now  without  good  reason. 

I  was,  however,  just  going  to  speak  kindl}'  to  him,  when 
we  noticed  that  Brulette,  who  was  still  ahead  of  us,  had 
stopped  on  the  wa3'side  to  speak  to  a  monk,  who  looked 
short  and  fat,  like  the  one  I  had  seen  in  the  woods  of 
Chamberat.  I  whipped  up  the  horse,  and  soon  convinced 
m3'self  that  it  was  really  Brother  Nicolas.  He  had  asked 
Brulette  if  he  were  far  from  our  village,  and,  as  he  was 
still  three  miles  distant  and  said  he  was  ver3'  tired,  she 
had  offered  to  give  him  a  lift  in  our  conve3-ance. 

We  made  room  for  him  and  for  a  large  covered  basket 
which  he  was  carr3'ing,  and  which  he  deposited  with  much 
precaution  on  his  knees.  None  of  us  dreamed  of  asking 
what  it  contained,  except  perhaps  m3'self,  who  am  naturall3' 
rather  curious ;  but  I  feared  to  be  indiscreet,  for  I  knew 
the  mendicant  friars  gathered  up  all  sorts  of  things  from 
j)ious  shopkeepers,  which  the3'  sold  again  for  the  benefit  of 
their  monaster}'.     Everything  came  hand}'  for  this  traffic, 


220  The  Bagi)ipers. 

even  women's  triimpeiy,  which,  however;  some  of  them  did 
not  venture  to  dispose  of  openly. 

I  drove  at  a  trot,  and  presently  we  caught  sight  of  the 
church  clock  and  the  old  elms  on  the  market-place,  then 
of  all  the  houses  of  the  village,  both  big  and  little,  —  which 
did  not  afford  me  as  much  pleasure  as  I  had  expected,  for 
the  meeting  with  Brother  Nicolas  had  brought  to  mind 
certain  painful  things  about  which  I  was  still  uneas3\  I 
saw,  however,  that  he  was  on  his  guard  as  well  as  I,  for 
he  said  not  a  word  before  Brulette  and  Joseph  showing 
that  we  had  met  elsewhere  than  at  the  dance,  or  that  he 
and  I  knew  more  of  what  had  happened  than  the  rest. 

He  was  a  very  pleasant  man,  with  a  jovial  nature  that 
might  have  amused  me  under  other  circumstances,  but 
I  was  in  a  hurrj^  to  reach  home  and  get  him  alone  by 
liimself,  so  as  to  ask  if  he  had  any  news  of  the  affair.  As 
we  entered  the  village  Joseph  jumped  off,  and  notwith- 
standing that  Brulette  begged  him  to  come  and  rest  at  her 
grandfather's,  he  took  the  road  to  Saint-Chartier,  saying 
that  he  would  pa}'  his  respects  to  Pere  Brulet  after  he  had 
seen  and  embraced  his  mother. 

I  fancied  that  the  friar  rather  urged  it  on  him  as  a  dut}', 
as  if  to  get  rid  of  him  ;  and  then,  instead  of  accepting  my 
proposal  that  he  should  dine  and  sup  at  m}'  house,  Brother 
Nicolas  declared  that  he  could  stop  only  an  hour  at  Pere 
Brulet's,  with  whom  he  had  business. 

"You  will  be  ver}'  welcome,"  said  Brulette;  "  but  do 
you  know  my  grandfather  ?  I  have  never  seen  you  at  the 
house." 

"  I  do  not  know  either  him  or  your  village,"  answered 
the  monk,  "  but  I  am  charged  with  an  errand  to  him, 
which  I  can  deliver  only  at  his  house." 

"I  returned  to  ni}'  first  notion,   namely,  th?,t  he  had 


The  Bagpipers*  221 

ribbons  and  laces  in  his  basket,  and  that,  having  heard  from 
the  neighbors  that  Brulette  was  the  smartest  girl  in  these 
parts,  he  wanted  to  show  her  his  merchandise  without 
exposing  himself  to  gossip,  which,  in  those  days,  spared 
neither  good  monks  nor  wicked  ones. 

I  thought  this  idea  was  in  Brulette's  head  too,  for  when 
she  got  down  first  at  the  door,  she  held  out  both  arms 
for  the  basket,  saying,  "Don't  be  afraid;  I  guess  what 
is  in  it."  But  the  friar  refused  to  give  it  up,  saying  it 
was  valuable  and  he  feared  it  might  get  broken. 

"  I  see.  Brother,"  I  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  detaining 
him  a  moment,  *'  that  you  are  ver}'  hxxsy.  I  don't  w^ant 
to  hinder  you,  but  I  should  like  you  to  tell  me  quickl}-  if 
there  is  an}^  news  from  over  there." 

"  None  that  I  know  of,"  he  said  in  the  same  tone  ; 
''but  no  news  is  good  news."  Then  shaking  me  b}'  the 
hand  in  a  friendly  way,  he  entered  the  house  after  Brulette, 
who  was  already  hanging  to  her  grandfather's  neck. 

I  thought  old  Brulet,  who  was  generall}'  polite,  owed 
me  a  hearty  welcome  and  some  thanks  for  the  care  I  had 
taken  of  his  granddaughter ;  but  instead  of  keeping  me 
even  a  moment,  he  seemed  more  interested  in  the  arrival 
of  the  friar ;  for,  taking  him  at  once  by  the  hand,  he  led 
him  into  an  inner  room,  begging  me  to  excuse  him  and 
saying  he  had  matters  of  importance  to  discuss  and  wished 
to  be  alone  with  his  granddaughter. 


222  The  Bagpipers, 


NINETEENTH  EVENING. 

I  AM  not  easily  affronted,  but  I  was  so  now  at  being 
thus  received ;  and  I  went  off  home  to  put  up  the  cart 
and  to  inquire  after  my  family.  After  that,  the  daj^  being 
too  far  gone  to  go  to  work,  I  sauntered  about  the  village 
to  see  if  everything  was  in  its  old  place,  and  found  no 
change,  except  that  one  of  the  trees  felled  on  the  common 
before  the  cobblei"'s  door  had  been  chopped  up  into  sabots, 
and  that  Pere  Godard  had  trimmed  up  his  poplar  and  put 
new  flags  on  his  path.  I  certainly  supposed  that  my 
journey  into  the  Bourbonnais  had  made  a  stir,  and  I 
expected  to  be  assailed  with  questions  which  I  might  find 
it  hard  to  answer ;  but  the  folks  in  our  region  are  very 
indifferent,  and  I  seemed,  for  the  first  time,  to  realize  how 
dull  the}' were,  —  being  obliged  to  tell  a  good  many  that 
I  had  just  returned  from  a  trip.  They  did  not  even  know 
I  had  been  away. 

Towards  evening,  as  I  was  loitering  home,  I  met  the 
friar  on  his  wa}'  to  La  Chatre,  and  he  told  me  that  Pere 
Brulet  wanted  me  to  sup  with  him. 

What  was  m}'  astonishment  on  entering  the  house  to 
see  Pere  Brulet  on  one  side  of  the  table,  and  his  grand- 
daughter on  the  other,  gazing  at  the  monk's  basket  which 
la}^  open  before  them,  and  in  it  a  big  baby  about  a  year 
old,  sitting  on  a  pillow  and  tr^'ing  to  eat  some  black- 
heart  cherries,  the  juice  of  which  had  daubed  and  stained 
his  face ! 

Brulette  seemed  to  me  thoughtful  and  rather  sad ;  but 


The  Bagpipers.  223 

when  she  saw  my  amazement  she  could  n't  help  laughing  ; 
after  which  she  wiped  her  eyes,  for  she  seemed  to  me  to 
have  been  shedding  tears  of  grief  or  vexation  rather  than 
of  gayetj. 

"Come,"  she  said  at  last,  "shut  the  door  tight  and 
listen  to  us.  Here  is  grandfather  who  wants  to  tell  you 
all  about  the  fine  present  the  monk  has  brought  us." 

"You  must  know,  nephew,"  said  Pere  Brulet,  who 
never  smiled  at  pleasant  things  anj'  more  than  he  frowned 
at  disagreeable  ones,  "that  this  is  an  orphan  child;  and 
we  have  agreed  with  the  monk  to  take  care  of  him  for  the 
price  of  his  board.  We  know  nothing  about  the  child, 
neither  his  father,  his  mother,  his  countr}-,  nor  an3'thing 
else.  He  is  called  Chariot,  and  that  is  all  we  do  know. 
The  pay  is  good,  and  the  friar  gave  us  the  preference 
because  he  met  Brulette  in  the  Bourbonnais,  and  hearing 
where  she  lived  and  how  well-behaved  she  was,  and, 
moreover,  that  she  was  not  rich  and  had  time  at  her 
disposal,  he  thought  he  could  give  her  a  pleasure  and  do 
her  a  service  by  putting  the  little  fellow  under  her  charge 
and  lettins^  her  earn  the  monev." 

Though  the  matter  was  tolerably  surprising,  I  was  not 
much  astonished  at  first  hearing  of  it,  and  only  asked  if 
the  monk  was  formerl}^  known  to  Pere  Brulet,  and  whether 
he  could  trust  him  as  to  the  future  pa3'ment. 

"I  had  never  seen  him,"  replied  the  old  man,  "but I 
knew  that  he  had  been  in  this  neighborhood  several  times, 
and  he  is  known  to  persons  in  whom  I  have  confidence, 
and  who  informed  me,  two  or  three  da3's  ago,  of  the 
matter  he  was  to  come  about.  Besides,  a  3'ear's  board  is 
paid  in  advance,  and  when  the  money  does  n't  come  it  will 
be  soon  enough  to  worry." 

' '  Very  good,  uncle ;  you  know  your  own  aflfairs ;  but 


224  The  Bagpipers, 

I  should  not  have  expected  to  see  m}^  cousin,  who  loves 
her  freedom,  tied  down  to  the  care  of  a  little  monkey 
who  is  notliing  to  her,  and  who,  be  it  said  without  offence, 
is  not  at  all  nice  in  his  appearance." 

"That  is  just  what  annoys  me,"  said  Brulette,  "  and  I 
was  saying  so  to  m}'  grandfather  as  you  came  in.  And," 
she  added,  rubbing  the  muzzle  of  the  little  animal  with 
her  handkerchief,  "no  wiping  will  make  his  mouth  any 
better ;  I  wish  I  could  have  begun  my  apprenticeship  with 
a  child  that  was  prettier  to  kiss.  This  one  looks  surl}', 
and  won't  even  smile  ;  he  cares  only  for  things  to  eat." 

"Bah!"  said  Pere  Brulet,  "he  is  not  uglier  than  all 
children  of  his  age,  and  it  is  your  business  to  make  him 
nice.  He  is  tired  with  his  journey,  and  does  n't  know 
where  he  is,  nor  what  we  mean  to  do  with  him." 

Pere  Brulet  went  out  to  look  for  his  knife,  which  he  had 
left  at  a  neighbor's,  and  I  began  to  get  more  and  more 
surprised  when  alone  with  Brulette.  She  seemed  anno3'ed 
at  times,  and  even  distressed. 

"  What  worries  me  is  that  I  don't  know  how  to  take 
care  of  a  child,"  she  said.  "  I  could  not  bear  to  let  a  poor 
creature  that  can't  help  itself  suffer ;  but  I  am  so  un- 
handy ;  I  am  sorr}'  now  that  I  never  was  inclined  to  look 
after  the  little  ones." 

"It  is  a  fact,"  I  said,  "  that  you  don't  seem  born  for 
the  business,  and  I  can't  understand  wh}'  j^our  grandfather 
who  I  never  thought  was  eager  after  mone}-,  should  put 
such  a  care  upon  you  for  the  sake  of  a  few  crowns." 

"You  talk  like  a  rich  man."  she  said.  "Remember 
that  I  have  no  dower,  and  that  a  fear  of  poverty  has 
always  deterred  me  from  marrying." 

"That's  a  very  bad  reasou,  I'rulotte.  You  haA^e  been 
and  still  will  be  sought  afLer  by  men  who  are  richer  than 


The  Bagpipers,  225 

3'ou,    Jind   who  love   your   sweet    eyes   and   3'our  prett}- 
chatter." 

"  My  sweet  e3'es  will  fade,  and  m}-  pretty  chatter  won't 
be  worth  much  when  the  beauty  has  gone.  I  don't  wish 
to  be  reproached  at  the  end  of  a  few  years  with  having 
lost  my  dower  of  charms  and  brought  nothing  more  solid 
into  the  household." 

"Is  it  that  you  are  really  thinking  of  marrying  —  since 
we  left  the  Bourbonnais  ?  "  I  asked.  "  This  is  the  first  time 
I  ever  heard  3'ou  talk  of  mone3\" 

"  I  am  not  thinking  of  it  any  more  than  I  have  always 
thought,"  returned  Brulette,  but  in  a  less  confident  tone 
than  usual,  "  I  never  said  I  meant  to  live  unmarried." 

"  I  see  how  it  is  !  "  I  cried,  laughing,  "  you  are  thinking 
of  it,  and  you  need  n't  tr3'  to  hide  it  from  me,  for  I  have 
given  up  all  hopes  of  m3''  own.  I  see  plainl3'  enough  that 
in  taking  care  of  this  little  wretch,  who  has  mone3'  and  no 
mother,  3'ou  are  laying  up  a  store,  like  the  squirrels.  If 
not,  3'our  grandfather,  whom  3'ou  have  alwa3's  rnled  as  if 
he  were  3'our  grandson,  would  not  have  forced  you  to  take 
such  a  bo3^  to  nurse." 

Brulette  lifted  the  child  from  the  table,  and  as  she 
carried  him  to  her  grandfather's  bed  she  gave  him  a 
rather  sad  look. 

"  Poor  Chariot !  "  she  said,  "  I  '11  do  my  best  for  you  ; 
3'OU  are  much  to  be  pitied  for  having  come  into  the  world, 
and  it  is  my  belief  that  nobod3'  wanted  3'ou." 

But  her  gayet3^  soon  returned ;  she  even  had  some 
hGart3"  laughs  at  supper  in  feeding  Chariot,  who  had  the 
appetite  of  a  little  wolf,  and  answered  all  her  attentions 
b3^  trying  to  scratch  her  face. 

Toward  eight  o'clock  Joseph  came  in  and  was  ver3'' 
well  received  by  Pcre  Brulet ;  but  I  obsei-ved  that  Bru- 

15 


226  The  Bagpipers. 

lette,  who  had  just  been  putting  Chariot  to  bed,  closed 
the  curtains  quickly  as  if  to  hide  him,  and  seemed  dis- 
turbed all  the  time  that  Joseph  remained.  I  observed  also 
that  not  a  word  was  said  to  him  of  this  singular  event,  either 
by  the  old  man  or  by  Brulette,  and  I  therefore  thought  it 
my  duty  to  hold  my  tongue.  Joseph  was  cross,  and  said 
as  httle  as  possible  in  answer  to  ni}-  uncle's  questions. 
Brulette  asked  him  if  he  had  found  his  mother  in  good 
health,  and  if  she  had  been  surprised  and  pleased  to  see 
him.  Then,  as  he  said  "yes"  to  everything,  she  asked 
if  he  had  not  tired  himself  too  much  by  walking  to  Saint- 
Chartier  and  back  in  one  evening. 

"  I  did  not  wish  to  let  the  da}'  go  by  without  paying  my 
respects  to  your  grandfather,"  he  said;  "and  now,  as  I 
really  am  tired,  I  shall  go  and  spend  the  night  with 
Tiennet,  if  I  don't  inconvenience  him." 

I  answered  that  it  would  give  me  pleasure,  and  took 
him  to  my  house  where,  after  we  were  in  bed,  he  said : 
"  Tiennet,  I  am  really  on  the  point  of  departure.  I  came 
here  onl}'  to  get  away  from  the  woods  of  Alleu,  for  I  was 
sick  of  them." 

"  That's  the  worst  of  3'ou,  Joseph  ;  you  were  there  with 
friends  who  took  the  place  of  those  3'ou  left  here  in  the 
same  way- — " 

"Well,  it  is  what  I  choose  to  do,"  he  said,  rather 
shortly  ;  then  in  a  milder  tone  he  added  :  "  Tiennet,  Tien- 
net, there  are  some  things  one  can  tell,  and  others  which 
force  us  to  keep  silence.  You  hurt  me  to-day  in  telling 
me  I  could  never  please  Brulette." 

"Joseph,  I  never  said  anything  of  the  kind,  for  the 
reason  that  I  don't  know  if  3'ou  reall}^  care  for  her." 

"You  do  know  it,"  he  replied;  "and  you  blame  me 
for  not  having  opened  my  heart  to  you.     But  how  could 


Tlie  Bagpipers,  227 

I  ?  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  tell  their  secrets  willingly. 
It  is  m}^  misfortune  ;  I  believe  I  have  really  no  other 
illness  than  one  sole  idea,  always  stretching  toward  the 
same  end,  and  always  beaten  back  when  it  rises  to  my  lips. 
Listen  to  me  now,  while  I  do  feel  able  to  talk ;  for  God 
knows  how  soon  I  may  fall  mute  again.  I  love ;  and  I 
see  plainly  I  am  not  loved.  So  many  years  have  passed 
in  this  way  (for  I  loved  Brulette  when  we  were  little 
children)  that  I  have  grown  accustomed  to  the  pain.  I 
have  never  flattered  myself  that  I  could  please  her ;  I 
have  lived  in  the  belief  that  she  would  never  care  for  me. 
Lately,  however,  I  saw  by  her  coming  to  the  Bourbonnais 
that  I  was  something  to  her,  and  it  gave  me  strength  and 
the  will  not  to  die.  But  I  soon  perceived  that  she  met 
some  one  over  there  who  suited  her  better  than  I." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  if  it  were 
so,  that  some  one  jon  speak  of  gave  you  no  ground  for 
complaint  or  reproach." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Joseph;  "and  my  anger  is  un- 
just, —  all  the  more  because  Fluriel,  knowing  Brulette  to  be 
an  honest  girl,  and  not  being  able  to  marry  her  so  long 
as  he  remains  in  the  fraternity  of  muleteers,  has  himself 
done  what  he  could  to  separate  from  her.  I  can  still  hope 
to  return  to  Brulette  hereafter,  more  worth}-  of  her  than 
I  have  been  ;  but  I  cannot  bear  to  staj-  here  now,  for  I 
am  still  nothing  better  than  I  was  in  the  past.  There  is 
something  in  the  manner  and  language  of  every  one  who 
speaks  to  me  that  seems  to  mean  :  '  You  are  sick,  you 
are  thin,  you  are  ugly,  you  are  feeble,  you  know  nothing 
new  and  nothing  good  that  can  interest  us  in  you.'  Yes, 
Tiennet,  what  I  tell  3-0U  is  exactly  so  ;  my  mother  seemed 
frightened  b}^  my  face  when  she  saw  me,  and  she  cried  so 
when  she  kissed  me  that  the  pain  of  seeing  her  was  greater 


228  The  Bagpipers. 

than  the  jo}-.  This  evening,  too,  Brulctte  looked  annoj'ed 
^hen  I  came  in,  and  her  grandfather,  good  and  kind  as 
he  always  is  to  me,  seemed  uneasy  lest  I  should  staj-  too 
long.  Now  don't  tell  me  that  I  imagined  all  that.  Like 
ell  those  who  speak  little,  I  see  much.  M3'  time  has  not 
yet  come  ;  I  must  go,  and  the  sooner  the  better." 

"I  think  3'ou  ought  to  take  at  least  a  few  daj^s'  rest," 
I  said  ;  "  for  I  fancy  3'ou  mean  to  go  to  a  great  distance, 
and  I  do  not  think  it  friendly  in  you  to  give  us  unneces- 
sary anxiet3\" 

"You  need  not  be  anxious,  Tiennet.  I  have  all  the 
strength  I  want,  and  I  shall  not  be  ill  again.  I  have 
learned  one  thing ;  and  that  is  that  frail  bodies,  to  which 
God  has  given  slender  physical  powers,  are  provided  with 
a  force  of  will  which  carries  them  farther  than  the  vigor- 
ous health  of  others.  I  was  not  exaggerating  when  1  told 
you  over  there  that  I  became,  as  it  were,  a  new  man  on 
seeing  Huriel  fight  so  boldl}' ;  and  that  I  was  wide  awake 
in  the  night  when  T  heard  his  voice  saying  to  me,  ^Come, 
cheer  up !  I  am  a  man,  and  as  long  as  3'ou  are  not  one 
you  will  count  for  nothing.'  I  want  therefore  to  shake 
myself  free  of  my  poor  nature,  and  return  here  some  day 
as  good  to  look  at  and  better  to  hear  than  all  Brulette's 
other  lovers." 

"  But,"  I  said,  "suppose  she  makes  her  choice  before 
3'Ou  return?  She  is  going  on  nineteen,  and  for  a  girl  as 
much  courted  as  she  is  it  is  time  to  decide." 

"  She  will  decide  only  between  Huriel  and  me,"  an- 
swered Joseph,  in  a  confident  tone.  "  There  is  no  one 
but  him  and  myself  who  are  capable  of  teaching  her  to 
love.  Excuse  me,  Tiennet ;  I  know,  or  at  least  I  believe, 
that  3'Ou  dreamed  of  it." 

*'  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  but  I  don't  dream  of  it  anj^  longer." 


The  Bagpipers.  229 

"  Well  for  you  !  "  said  Joseph  ;  "for  3'oa  could  never 
have  been  happy  with  her.  She  has  tastes  and  ideas 
which  don't  belong  to  the  ground  she  has  grown  in  ;  she 
needs  another  wind  to  rock  her ;  the  one  that  blows  here 
is  not  pure  enough  and  it  might  wither  her.  She  feels  all 
this,  though  she  may  not  know  how  to  sa}'  it ;  and  I  tell 
3'ou  that  unless  Huriel  is  treacherous,  I  shall  find  her  still 
free,  a  year  or  two  hence." 

So  saying,  Joseph,  as  if  wearied  out  b}^  letting  himself 
talk  so  much,  dropped  his  head  on  his  pillow  and  went  to 
sleep.  For  the  last  hour  I  had  been  struggling  to  keep 
awake,  for  I  was  tired  out  myself.  I  slept  soundl}',  and 
when  at  daybreak  I  called  him  he  did  not  answer.  I 
looked  about,  and  he  was  gone  without  awaking  an}'  one. 

Brulette  went  the  next  day  to  see  Mariton,  to  break  the 
news  to  her,  and  find  out  what  had  passed  between  her 
and  her  son.  She  would  not  let  me  accompanj-  her,  and 
told  me  on  her  return  that  she  could  not  get  Mariton  to 
say  much,  because  her  master  Benoit  was  ill  and  even  in 
some  danger  from  congestion  of  the  brain.  I  concluded, 
therefore,  that  the  woman,  being  obliged  to  nurse  her  mas- 
ter, had  not  had  time  to  talk  with  her  son  as  much  as  he 
would  have  liked,  and  consequently  he  had  become  jealous, 
as  his  nature  led  him  to  be  at  such  times. 

"That  is  very  likel}',"  said  Brulette,  "for  the  wiser 
Joseph  gets  through  ambition  the  more  exacting  he  be- 
comes. I  think  I  liked  him  better  when  he  was  simple  and 
submissive  as  he  used  to  be." 

When  I  related  to  Brulette  all  that  he  had  said  to  me 
the  night  before,  she  replied:  "  If  he  realh^  has  so  high 
an  ambition,  we  should  onlj'  hamper  him  b}^  showing  an 
anxiety  he  does  not  wish  for.  Leave  him  in  God's  care! 
If  I  wei'e  the  flirt  3'ou  declared  I  was  in  former  times,  I 


230  The  Bagpipers, 

should  be  prond  to  be  the  cause  of  his  endeavoring  to  im- 
prove his  mind  and  his  career ;  but  I  am  not ;  and  my 
feeling  is  chiefly  regret  that  he  does  nothing  for  his  mother 
or  himself." 

"  But  is  n't  he  right  when  he  sa3's  that  you  can  only 
choose  between  Huriel  and  him?  " 

"  There  is  time  enough  to  think  about  that,"  she  said, 
laughing  with  her  lips,  though  her  face  was  not  cheerful, 
"especially  as  the  onlj'  two  lovers  Joseph  allows  me  are 
running  away  as  fast  as  their  legs  can  go." 

During  the  next  week  the  arrival  of  the  child  which  the 
monk  had  brought  was  the  subject  of  village  gossip  and 
the  torment  of  the  inquisitive.  So  man}'  tales  were 
founded  upon  it  that  Chariot  came  near  being  the  son  of  a 
prince,  and  every  one  wanted  to  borrow  money  of  Pere 
Brulet,  or  sell  goods  to  him,  convinced  that  the  stipend 
which  induced  his  granddaughter  to  take  up  a  duty  so 
contrar}^  to  her  tastes  must  at  least  be  a  princely  revenue. 
The  jealousy  of  some  and  the  discontent  of  others  made  the 
old  man  enemies,  which  he  had  never  had  in  his  life,  and 
he  was  much  astonished  by  it ;  for,  simple,  pious  soul  that 
he  was,  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  matter  might 
give  occasion  for  gossip.  Brulette,  however,  only  laughed 
and  persuaded  him  to  pay  no  attention  to  it. 

Daj'S  and  weeks  went  b}^  and  we  heard  nothing  of 
Joseph,  or  of  Huriel,  or  of  the  Woodsman  and  his  daugh- 
ter. Brulette  wrote  to  Therence  and  I  to  Huriel,  but  we 
got  no  answers.  Brulette  was  troubled  and  even  annoj'ed  ; 
so  much  so  that  she  told  me  she  did  not  mean  to  think 
anj'thing  more  of  those  foreigners,  who  did  not  even  re- 
member her,  and  made  no  return  for  the  friendship  she  had 
offered  them.  So  she  began  once  more  to  dress  herself 
smartly  and  appear  at  the  dances  ;  for  the  gallants  com- 


The  Bagpipers.  231 

plained  of  her  gloomy  looks  and  the  headaches  she  talked 
of  ever  since  her  trip  to  the  Bourbonnais.  The  journej'  had 
been  rather  criticised ;  people  even  said  she  had  some  secret 
love  over  there,  either  for  Joseph  or  for  some  one  else;  and 
the}'  expected  her  to  be  more  amiable  than  ever,  before  they 
would  forgive  her  for  going  off  without  a  word  to  any  one. 

Brulette  was  too  proud  to  give  in  to  cajoling  them,  but 
she  dearly  loved  pleasure,  and  being  drawn  in  that  direc- 
tion, she  gave  Cliarlot  in  charge  of  her  neighbor,  Mere 
Lamouche,  and  took  her  amusement  as  before. 

One  evening,  as  I  was  coming  back  with  her  from  the 
pilgrimnge  of  Vaudevant,  which  is  a  great  festival,  we 
heard  Chariot  howling,  far  as  we  were  from  the  house. 
*'  That  dreadful  child,"  said  Brulette,  "  is  never  out  of  mis- 
chief.   I  am  sure  I  don't  know  who  can  ever  manage  him." 

"  Are  you  sure,"  I  said,  "  the  Mere  Lamouche  takes  as 
good  care  of  him  as  she  promised  3'ou  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  does.  She  has  nothing  else  to  do,  and 
I  pay  her  enough  to  satisfy  her." 

Chariot  continued  to  yell,  and  the  house  looked  as 
though  it  were  locked  up  and  there  was  no  one  in  it. 
Brulette  ran  and  knocked  loudl}^  on  the  door,  but  no  one 
answered  except  Chariot,  who  screamed  louder  than  ever, 
cither  from  fright,  or  loneliness,  or  anger. 

I  was  obliged  to  climb  to  the  thatch  of  the  roof  and 
clamber  down  through  the  trap-door  of  the  loft.  I  opened 
the  door  for  Brulette  and  then  we  saw  Chariot  all  alone, 
rolling  in  the  ashes,  where  by  great  good  luck  there  was 
no  fire,  and  purple  as  a  beet  from  screaming, 

"  Heavens!"  cried  Brulette,  "  is  that  the  way  to  care 
for  the  poor  little  wretch?  Well,  whoso  takes  a  child  gets 
a  master.  I  ought  to  have  known  it,  and  either  not  taken 
this  one,  or  given  up  my  own  enjoyments." 


232  Tfie  Bagpijjers. 

So  saying,  she  carried  Chariot  to  her  own  home,  half  in 
pity  and  half  impatiently,  and  having  washed,  fed,  and 
consoled  him  as  best  she  could,  she  put  him  to  sleep,  and 
sat  down  to  reflect,  with  her  head  in  her  hands.  I  tried 
to  show  her  that  it  would  be  eas}'  enough,  by  sacrificing 
the  mone}'  she  was  gaining,  to  employ*  some  kindly,  careful 
woman  to  take  charge  of  the  boj-. 

"'  No,"  she  exclaimed,  ''  I  must  look  after  him,  because 
I  am  responsible  for  him,  and  3'ou  see  what  looking  after 
him  means.  If  I  think  I  can  let  up  for  one  day  it  is  just 
that  very  day  that  I  ought  not  to  have  done  so.  Yes, 
that's  it,  I  ought  not,"  she  said,  crying.  "  It  would  be 
wrong ;  and  I  should  be  sony  for  it  all  m}'  life." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  you  would  do  wrong  if  the  child 
were  to  be  the  gainer  by  it.  He  is  not  happy  with  3'ou, 
and  he  might  be  elsewhere." 

"  Wh}',  is  n't  he  happj^  with  me?  I  hope  he  is,  except 
on  the  da3's  when  I  am  absent ;  and  so  I  say  I  will  not 
absent  m3^self  again." 

"  I  tell  you  he  is  no  better  off  when  you  are  here." 

*'What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Brulette,  striking  her 
hands  with  vexation  ;  "  where  have  3'OU  heard  that?  Did 
\'OU  ever  see  me  ill-treat  the  child,  or  even  threaten  him  ? 
Can  I  help  it  if  he  is  an  unpleasant  child  with  a  sulk3^  dis- 
position? If  he  were  m3^  own  I  could  not  do  better  for 
him." 

"  Oh  !  I  know  you  are  not  unkind  to  him  and  never  let 
him  want  for  an3'thing,  because  3'ou  are  a  dear,  sweet  Chris- 
tian ;  but  you  can't  love  him,  for  that  does  n't  depend  upon 
3^ourself  He  feels  this  without  knowing  it,  and  that  keeps 
him  from  loving  and  caressing  others.  Animals  know 
when  people  like  them  or  dislike  them  ;  why  should  n't 
little  human  beings  do  the  same?" 


The  Bagpipers,  233 


TWENTIETH   EVENING. 

Brulette  colored,  pouted,  began  to  cry,  and  said 
nothing  ;  but  the  next  day  I  met  her  leading  her  beasts  to 
pasture  with  Chariot  in  her  arras.  She  sat  down  in  the 
middle  of  the  field  with  the  child  on  the  skirt  of  her  gown, 
and  said  to  me  :  — 

"You  were  right,  Tiennet.  Your  reproaches  made  me 
reflect,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do.  I  can't 
promise  to  love  this  Chariot  much,  but  I  '11  behave  as  if 
I  did,  and  perhaps  God  will  reward  me  some  da}'  b}-  giv- 
ing me  children  of  m}^  own  more  lovable  than  this  one." 

"  Ah,  ni}^  darling  !  "  I  cried.  "  I  don't  know  what  makes 
you  sa}^  that.  I  never  blamed  3'ou  ;  I  have  nothing  to  re- 
proach 3'ou  with  except  the  obstinacy  with  which  you  now 
resolve  to  bring  up  tlie  little  wretch  yourself.  Come,  let 
me  write  to  that  friar,  or  let  me  go  and  find  him  and 
make  him  put  the  child  in  another  famil}'.  I  know  where 
the  convent  is,  and  I  would  rather  make  another  long 
journey  than  see  3'ou  condemned  to  this  sort  of  thing." 

"No,  Tiennet,"  replied  Brulette.  "We  must  not  even 
think  of  changing  what  was  agreed  upon.  My  grand^ 
father  promised  for  me,  and  I  was  bound  to  consent.  If 
I  could  tell  you  —  but  I  can't !  One  thing  I  want  3'Ou  to 
know  ;  it  is  that  mone^^  counts  for  nothing  in  the  bargain, 
and  that  my  grandfather  and  I  will  never  accept  a  penny 
for  a  duty  we  are  bound  to  perform." 

"  Now  you  do  surprise  me.  Whose  child  is  it?  It  must 
belong  to  some  of  your  relatives,  —  consequently,  mine." 


234  The  Bagpipers, 

"  Possibl}',"  she  replied.  ''Some  of  our  famil}^  live 
away  from  liere.  But  consider  that  I  have  told  you 
nothing,  for  I  cannot  and  ought  not  to  do  so.  Let 
people  believe  that  the  little  monkey'  is  a  stranger  to  us, 
and  tliat  we  are  paid  for  the  care  of  him.  Otherwise,  evil 
tongues  might  accuse  those  who  don't  deserve  it." 

"The  devil!"  said  I.  "If  you  haven't  set  me  on 
thorns  !     I  can't  think  —  " 

"That's  just  it,"  she  said,  "you  are  not  to  think;  I 
forbid  it,  —  though  I  am  quite  sure  3'ou  never  could 
find  out." 

"Very  good!  but  do  3'ou  really  mean  to  wean  3-ourself 
from  all  amusements,  just  as  that  child  is  weaned  of  the 
breast?     The  devil  take  your  grandfather's  promise  !  " 

"  M3'  grandfather  did  right,  and  if  I  had  gone  against 
him  I  should  have  been  a  heartless  girl.  I  repeat,  I  don't 
choose  to  do  things  by  halves,  even  if  I  die  of  it." 

Brulette  was  resolute.  From  that  day  such  a  change 
came  over  her  that  she  was  scarceh'  recognizable.  She 
never  left  the  house  fexcept  to  pasture  her  sheep  and  her 
goats  with  Chariot  beside  her ;  and  when  she  had  put 
him  to  bed  for  the  night  she  would  take  her  work  and  sit 
near  him.  She  went  to  none  of  the  dances,  and  bought  no 
more  finer}',  having  no  longer  an\^  occasion  for  it.  This 
dull  life  made  her  serious  and  even  sad,  for  she  soon 
found  herself  neglected.  There  is  no  girl  so  pretty  but 
what  she  is  forced  to  be  amiable  with  evcrybod}'  if  she 
wants  to  have  followers  ;  and  Brulette,  who  now  showed 
no  desire  to  please,  was  called  sullen,  all  the  more  because 
she  had  once  been  so  much  the  reverse.  In  m}-  opinion 
she  had  only  changed  for  the  better,  for,  having  never 
pla^^ed  the  coquette,  onl}'  m}^  lady  the  princess  with  me, 
she  seemed  to  my  mind  more  gentle  in  manner,  more 


Tiie  BagiJipers,  235 

sensible  and  interesting  in  lier  behavior  ;  but  others  didn't 
think  so.  In  the  past  she  had  allowed  her  lovers  just  so 
much  hope  as  now  made  each  of  them  feel  affronted  b}" 
her  neglect,  as  if  he  considered  he  had  a  right  to  her ; 
and  although  her  coquetry  had  alwaj's  been  very  harmless 
she  was  punished  for  it  as  if  it  were  a  wrong  done  to 
others ;  which  proves,  as  I  think,  that  men  have  as  much, 
if  not  more,  vanity  than  women,  and  consider  that  no  one 
ever  does  enough  to  please  or  pacifj'  the  conceit  they 
have  of  themselves. 

There  is  one  thing  certain  at  least,  and  that  is  that 
many  persons  are  very  unjust,  —  even  young  men  who  seem 
such  good  fellows  and  such  willhig  slaves  as  long  as  the^^ 
are  in  love.  Many  of  Brulette's  old  admirers  now  turned 
as^ainst  her,  and  more  than  once  I  had  words  with  them 
in  defending  my  cousin  from  the  blame  they  put  upon  her. 
Unfortunately-,  they  were  encouraged  by  the  gossips  and 
the  selfish  folk  who  were  jealous  of  Pere  Brulet's  supposed 
bit  of  luck ;  until  finall}-  Brulette  was  obliged  to  refuse 
to  see  these  maliciously  inquisitive  people,  and  even  the 
false  friends  who  came  and  repeated  to  her  what  they  had 
heard  others  say. 

This  is  how  it  was  that  in  less  than  one  year  the 
queen  of  the  village,  the  Rose  of  Nohant,  was  condemned 
by  evil  minds  and  abandoned  by  fools.  The}'  told  dark 
stories  about  her,  and  I  shuddered  lest  she  should  hear 
them ;  indeed,  I  myself  was  often  harassed  and  puzzled 
how  to  answer  them.  The  worst  lie  of  all  was  one  Pere 
Brulet  ought  to  have  expected,  namel}',  that  Chariot  was 
neither  some  poor  foundling  nor  the  son  of  a  prince, 
brought  up  secretly,  but  really  Brulette's  own  child.  In 
vain  I  pointed  out  that  the  girl  had  alwa3's  lived  openly 
under  the  eyes  of  everybod}^ ;  and  having  never  encour- 


236  The  Bagpipers. 

aged  any  particular  lover  she  could  not  have  committed 
a  fault  so  difficult  to  hide.  They  answered  that  such  and 
such  a  one  had  boldly  concealed  her  condition  till  the  very 
last  day,  and  had  reappeared,  sometimes  the  day  after, 
as  composed  and  livel}-  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and 
had  even  hidden  the  consequences  until  she  was  married 
to  the  author,  or  the  dupe,  of  her  sin.  Unfortunatel}',  this 
had  happened  more  than  once  in  our  village.  In  these 
little  country  places,  where  the  houses  are  surrounded  by 
gardens,  and  separated  from  each  other  by  hemp  and 
lucern  fields,  some  of  them  of  great  extent,  it  is  not  easy 
to  see  and  hear  from  one  to  another  at  all  hours  of  the 
night,  and,  indeed,  things  are  done  at  Siwy  time  which  the 
good  God  alone  takes  account  of 

One  of  the  worst  tongues  against  Brulette  was  that  of 
Mere  Lamouche,  ever  since  Brulette  had  found  her  out 
and  taken  the  boy  away  from  her.  She  had  so  long  been 
the  willing  servant  and  slave  of  the  girl  that  she  knew 
she  could  look  for  no  further  gain  from  her,  and  in  re- 
venge she  invented  and  told  anything  that  people  wanted 
her  to  say.  She  related,  to  whoever  listened,  how  Brulette 
had  sacrificed  her  honor  to  that  "  pnn}'  fellow,  Jose," 
and  that  she  was  so  ashamed  of  it  that  she  had  forced 
him  to  leave  the  place.  Jose  had  submitted,  on  condition 
that  she  would  marry  no  one  else ;  and  he  was  now  in 
foreign  parts  trying  to  earn  enough  money  to  marrj^  her. 
The  child,  said  the  woman,  had  been  taken  into  the  Bour- 
bonnais  cbuntrj^  by  men  with  blackened  faces  who  called 
themselves  muleteers,  and  whose  acquaintance  Joseph  had 
made  under  pretence  of  buying  his  bagpipe  ;  but  there 
had  never  been  any  other  bagpipe  in  the  case  than  that 
squalling  Chariot.  About  a  year  after  his  birth  Brulette 
had  gone  to  see  her  lover  and  the  baby,  in  company  witli 


The  Bagpipers.  237 

me  and  a  muleteer  who  was  as  ugl}'  as  the  devil.  There 
we  made  acquaintance  with  a  mendicant  friar,  who 
offered  to  bring  the  bab}'  back  for  us,  and  with  whom  we 
concocted  the  story  of  its  being  a  rich  foundling ;  which 
was  altogether  false,  for  this  child  had  brought  not  one 
penn}'  of  profit  to  Pere  Brulet. 

When  Mere  Lamouche  invented  this  tale,  in  which, 
you  see,  lies  were  mixed  up  with  facts,  her  word  was 
believed  b}'  everj'body,  and  Joseph's  short  and  almost 
secret  visit  assisted  the  belief.  So,  with  much  laughter 
and  derision,  Brulette  was  nicknamed  *'Josette." 

In  spite  of  my  wrath  at  these  outrageous  stories,  Bru- 
lette took  so  little  pains  to  make  herself  agreeable,  and 
showed  by  her  care  for  the  child  such  contempt  for  the 
gossips,  that  I  began  to  get  bewildered  m3'sclf.  Was  it 
absolutely  impossible  that  I  had  been  a  dupe?  Once 
upon  a  time  I  had  certainly  been  jealous  of  Joseph. 
However  virtuous  and  discreet  a  girl  might  be,  however 
shy  the  lad,  it  had  often  happened  that  love  and  igno- 
rance got  the  better  of  them,  and  some  j'oung  couples  had 
never  known  the  meaning  of  evil  until  they  had  committed 
it.  If  she  had  once  done  wrong,  Brulette,  a  clever  girl,  was 
none  the  less  capable  of  hiding  her  misfortune,  being  too 
proud  to  confess  it,  3'et  too  right-minded  to  deceive 
others.  Was  it  not  b}'  her  orders  that  Joseph  wished  to 
make  himself  a  worthy  husband  and  father?  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  wise  and  patient  scheme.  Was  I  deceived  in 
thinking  she  had  a  fancy  for  Huriel?  I  might  have  been  ; 
but  even  if  she  had  felt  it,  in  spite  of  herself,  she  had  not 
yielded  to  her  feelings,  and  so  had  done  no  wrong  to 
Joseph.  In  short,  was  it  conscientious  dutj',  or  strength 
of  friendship,  which  made  her  go  to  the  relief  of  the  poor 
sick  man  ?     In  either  case  she  was  right  to  do  so.     If  she 


238  The  Bagpipers. 

were  a  mother,  she  was  a  good  mother,  though  her  natu- 
ral incUnations  were  not  that  wa}'.  All  women  can  have 
children,  but  all  women  are  not  fond  of  children  for  all 
that,  and  Brulette  ought  therefore  to  have  the  more  credit 
for  taking  back  her  own  in  spite  of  her  love  for  company, 
and  the  questions  she  thus  raised  as  to  the  truth. 

All  things  considered,  I  did  not  see,  even  in  what  1 
might  suppose  the  worst  of  my  cousin's  conduct,  anything 
that  lowered  m}"  friendship  for  her.  Only  I  felt  she  had 
been  so  contradictory  in  her  statements  that  I  no  longer 
knew  how  to  rely  on  them.  If  she  loved  Joseph  then  she 
had  certainly  been  artful ;  but  if  she  did  not  love  him,  she 
had  been  too  lively  in  spirits  and  forgetful  of  what  had 
happened,  for  a  person  who  was  resolved  to  do  her  dut}*. 

If  she  had  not  been  so  ill-treated  b}'  the  communit}-, 
I  might  have  lessened  my  visits,  for  these  doubts  certainly 
lowered  my  confidence  in  her ;  but  on  the  contrary',  I  con- 
trolled m3'self  and  went  to  the  house  ever^'  day,  taking 
pains  not  to  show  her  the  least  distrust.  For  all  this,  I 
was  continually  surprised  at  the  difficult}'  with  which  she 
broke  herself  in,  as  it  were,  to  the  duties  of  a  mother.  In 
spite  of  the  weight  of  care  I  believed  she  had  on  her 
mind,  there  were  times  when  all  her  beautj'  and  30uth 
came  back  to  her.  She  wore  neither  silk  nor  laces,  that 
is  true,  but  her  hair  was  silky,  her  stockings  well-fitting, 
and  her  pretty  little  feet  were  itching  for  a  dance 
wherever  she  saw  a  bit  of  greensward  or  heard  the  sound 
of  the  bagpipes.  Sometimes  at  home,  when  the  thought 
of  a  Bourbon nais  reel  came  over  her,  she  would  put 
Chariot  on  her  grandfather's  knee  and  make  me  dance  it 
with  her,  singing  and  laughing  and  carrying  herself  jaun- 
tily, as  if  all  the  parish  were  there  to  see  her  ;  but  a  minute 
later,  if  Chariot  cried  or  wanted  to  go  to  bed,  or  to  be 


The  Bagpipers.  239 

carried,  or  to  be  fed  when  he  was  n't  hungry-,  or  given 
drink  that  he  didn't  want,  she  would  take  him  in  her 
arms  with  tears  in  her  ej'es,  hke  a  dog  who  is  being 
chained  up,  and  then,  with  a  sigh,  she  would  croon  him 
a  tune  or  pamper  him  with  a  bit  of  cake. 

Seeing  how  she  regretted  her  gay  life,  I  offered  her  my 
sister's  services  in  taking  care  of  the  little  one,  while  she 
went  to  the  fetes  at  Saint-Chartier.  I  must  tell  \o\x  that 
in  those  da3-s  there  lived  in  the  old  castle  (of  which 
nothing  is  now  left  but  the  shell)  an  old  maiden  lady, 
who  was  very  good-natured  and  gave  balls  to  all  the 
country  round.  Tradesmen  and  noblemen,  peasants  and 
artisans,  as  many  as  liked,  went  there.  You  saw  gentle- 
men and  ladies  going  along  the  abominable  roads  in  mid- 
winter, mounted  on  horses  and  donkey's,  and  wearing  silk 
stockings,  silver  shoe-buckles,  and  powdered  wigs  as  white 
as  the  snow  on  the  trees  along  the  road.  Nothing  deterred 
the  company,  rich  or  poor,  for  the}'  amused  them  hugely 
and  were  well  entertained  from  midda}'  till  six  at  night. 

The  lady  of  Saint-Chartier,  who  had  noticed  Brulette 
dancing  in  the  market-place  the  year  before,  and  was 
always  anxious  to  have  pretty  girls  at  her  daylight  balls, 
invited  her,  and  b}'  m}'  advice,  she  went  once.  I  thought 
it  was  good  advice,  for  she  seemed  to  be  getting  de- 
pressed and  to  make  no  effort  to  raise  her  spirits.  She 
was  always  so  sweet  to  look  at,  and  so  ready  with  the 
right  thing  to  say,  that  I  never  thought  it  possible  people 
would  n't  receive  her  kindl}',  especially  when  she  dressed 
so  well  and  looked  so  handsome. 

When  she  entered  on  m}^  arm,  whisperings  went  round, 
but  no  one  dared  to  do  more.  She  danced  first  with  me, 
and  as  she  had  that  sort  of  charm  that  everybody  jields 
to,  others  came  and  asked  her,  possibly  intending  to  show 


240  The  Bagpipers. 

her  some  freeclorn,  but  not  daring  to  risk  it.  All  went  well 
till  a  part}'  of  rie*li  folks  came  into  the  room  where  we 
were  ;  for  the  peasantr}',  I  should  tell  3'ou,  had  their  ball- 
room apart  and  did  not  mix  with  the  rich  till  nearly  the 
end,  when  the  ladies,  deserted  b}'  their  partners,  would 
come  and  mingle  with  the  country  girls,  who  attracted 
people  of  all  kinds  b}^  their  lively  chatter  and  their  healthy 
looks. 

Brulette  was  at  first  stared  at  as  the  handsomest  article 
of  the  show,  and  the  silk  stockings  paid  such  attention  to 
the  woollen  stockings  that  no  one  could  get  near  her. 
Then,  in  the  spirit  of  contradiction,  all  those  who  had 
been  tearing  her  to  pieces  for  the  last  six  months  became 
frantically  jealous  all  at  once,  and  more  in  love  than  they 
had  ever  been.  80  then  it  was  a  struggle  who  should  in- 
vite her  first ;  in  fact,  they  were  almost  ready  to  fight  for 
the  kiss  that  opened  the  dance. 

The  ladies  and  the  young  ladies  were  provoked ;  and 
our  class  of  women  complained  to  the  lads  for  not  keeping 
up  their  ill-will ;  but  they  might  as  well  have  talked  to  the 
winds  ;  one  glance  of  a  pretty  girl  has  more  sweetness 
than  the  tongue  of  an  ugty  one  has  venom. 

"  Well,  Brulette,"  I  said,  on  our  way  home,  "Wasn't 
I  right  to  tell  j^ou  to  shake  off  your  low  spirits  ?  You  see 
the  game  is  never  lost  if  3'ou  know  how  to  pla}'  it  boldly." 
"  Thank  you,  cousin,"  she  repUed  ;  "you  are  my  best 
friend ;  indeed,  I  think,  you  are  the  onl}'  true  and  faithful 
friend  I  have  ever  had.  I  am  glad  to  have  got  the  better 
of  m}'  enemies,  and  now,  I  think  I  shall  never  be  dull  at 
home   again." 

' '  The  devil !  how  fast  3'Ou  change  !  Yesterday  it  was 
all  sulks,  and  to-day  it  is  all  merriment !  You  '11  take  3'our 
place  as  queen  of  the  village." 


The  Bagpipers.  241 

"No,"  she  said,  "3-011  don't  understand  mo.  This  is 
the  last  ball  I  mean  to  go  to  so  long  as  I  keep  Chariot ; 
for,  if  you  want  me  to  tell  3'ou  the  truth,  I  have  n't  en- 
joyed m^'self  one  bit.  I  put  a  good  face  on  it  to  please 
3'ou,  and  I  am  glad,  now  it  is  over,  to  have  done  it ;  but  all 
the  while  I  was  thinking  of  that  poor  bab3'.  I  fancied  him 
crying  and  howling,  no  matter  how  kind  your  sister  might 
be  to  him  ;  he  is  so  awkward  in  making  known  his  wants, 
and  so  anno3'ing  to  others." 

Brulette's  words  set  m3-  teeth  on  edge.  I  had  forgotten 
the  little  wretch  when  I  saw  her  laughing  and  dancing. 
The  love  she  no  longer  concealed  for  him  brought  to  my 
mind  what  seemed  to  be  her  past  lies,  and  I  began  to 
think  she  must  be  an  utter  deceiver,  who  had  now  grown 
tired  of  restraining  herself. 

' '  Then  you  love  him  as  3'our  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  "  I 
cried,  not  thinking  much  of  the  words  I  used. 

"  M3-  own  flesh  and  blood?"  she  repeated,  as  if  sur- 
prised. "  Well,  3'es,  perhaps  we  love  all  children  that  way 
when  we  think  of  M'hat  we  owe  them.  I  never  pretended, 
as  some  girls  do  when  the3'  are  craving  to  get  married, 
that  m3'  instincts  were  those  of  a  brooding  hen.  Perhaps 
m3'  head  was  too  gidd3'  to  deserve  a  famil3'  in  m3'  3'oung 
days.  I  know  girls  who  can't  sleep  for  thinking  about  it 
before  the3'  are  sixteen.  But  I  have  got  to  be  twent3^, 
without  feeling  that  I  am  rather  late.  If  it  is  wrong,  it  is 
not  m3-  fault.  I  am  as  God  made  me,  and  I  have  gone 
along  as  he  pushed  me.  To  tell  the  truth,  a  hixhy  is  a 
hard  task-master,  unreasonable  as  a  craz3'  husband  and 
obstinate  as  a  hungT3'  animal.  I  like  justice  and  good 
sense,  and  I  should  much  prefer  quieter  and  more  sensi- 
ble compan3\  Also  I  like  cleanliness ;  3'ou  have  often 
laughed  at  me  for  worr3'ing  about  a  speck  of  dust  on  the 


242  The  Bagpipers, 

dresser  and  letting  a  flj'  in  the  milk  turn  my  stomach. 
Now  a  bab}^  is  alwa3^s  getting  into  the  dirt,  no  matter  how 
you  may  try  to  prevent  it.  And  then  I  am  fond  of  think- 
ing, and  dreaming,  and  recollecting  things ;  but  a  bab}'" 
won't  let  you  think  of  anything  but  his  wants,  and  gets 
angry  if  you  pay  no  attention  to  him.  But  all  that  is 
neither  here  nor  there,  Tiennet,  when  God  takes  the  matter 
in  hand.  He  invented  a  sort  of  miracle  which  takes  place 
inside  of  us  when  need  be ;  and  now  I  know  a  thing  which 
I  never  believed  until  it  happened  to  me,  and  that  is  that 
a  child,  no  matter  how  ugly  and  ill-tempered  it  is  ma}'  be 
bitten  b}'^  a  wolf  or  trampled  by  a  goat,  but  never  b}'  a 
woman,  and  that  he  will  end  by  managing  her  —  unless 
she  is  made  of  another  wood  than  the  rest  of  us." 

As  she  said  this  we  were  entering  my  house,  where 
Chariot  was  playing  with  m}'  sister's  children.  "Well, 
I  'm  glad  you  have  come,"  said  m}'  sister  to  Brulette ; 
"you  certainly  have  the  most  ill-tempered  child  that  ever 
lived.  He  has  beaten  mine,  and  bitten  them,  and  pro- 
voked them,  and  one  needs  forty  cartloads  of  patience  and 
pit}'  to  get  along  with  him." 

Brulette  laughed,  and  going  up  to  Chariot,  who  never 
gave  her  any  welcome,  she  said,  as  she  watched  him  play- 
ing after  his  fashion,  and  as  if  he  could  understand  what 
she  said :  "  I  knew  ver}^  well  you  could  not  make  these 
kind  people  love  you.  There  is  no  one  but  me,  3'ou  poor 
little  screech-owl,  who  can  put  up  with  your  claws  and 
3'our  beak." 

Though  Chariot  was  onl}^  eighteen  months  old  it  seemed 
as, if  he  really  understood  what  Brulette  was  sa3'ing ;  for 
he  got  up,  after  looking  at  her  for  a  moment  with  a 
thoughtful  air,  and  jumped  upon  her  and  seized  her  hand 
and  devoured  it  with  kisses. 


The  Baginpers.  243 

*'  He}' !  "  cried  m}'  sister,  "  then  he  reall}-  has  his  good 
moments,  after  all  ?  " 

"My  dear,"  said  Brulette,  "I  am  just  as  much 
astounded  as  3'ou  are.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever 
known  him  behave  so."  Then,  kissing  Chariot  on  his 
heavy  e3'elids  she  began  to  cry  with  joy  and  tenderness. 

I  can't  tell  why  I  was  overcome  by  the  action,  as  if 
there  were  something  marvellous  in  it.  But,  in  good  truth, 
if  the  child  was  not  hers,  Brulette  at  that  moment  was 
transformed  before  my  eyes.  This  girl,  so  proud-spirited 
that  she  would  n't  have  shrunk  before  the  king  six  months 
ago,  and  who  that  very  morning  had  had  all  the  lads  of 
the  neighborhood,  rich  and  poor,  at  her  knee,  had  gath- 
ered such  pity  and  Christianity  into  her  heart  that  she 
thought  herself  rewarded  for  all  her  trouble  b}-  the  fii'st 
kisses  of  an  odious  little  slobberer,  who  had  no  pleasant 
wa3's  and  indeed  seemed  half-idiotic. 

The  tears  were  in  m}'  ej-es,  thinking  of  what  those 
kisses  cost  her,  and  taking  Chariot  on  my  shoulder,  I 
carried  him  back  with  her  to  her  own  door. 

Twent}'  times  I  had  it  on  my  tongue  to  ask  her  the 
truth ;  for  if  she  had  done  wrong  as  to  Chariot,  I  was 
read}'  to  forgive  her  the  sin,  but  if,  on  the  contrary,  she 
was  bearing  the  burden  of  other  people's  guilt,  I  desired 
to  kiss  her  feet  as  the  sweetest  and  most  patient  winner 
of  Paradise. 

But  T  dared  not  ask  her  any  questions,  and  when  I  told 
my  doubts  to  my  sister,  who  was  no  fool,  she  replied  : 
"  If  you  dare  not  question  her  it  is  because  in  the  depths 
of  3'our  heart  3'ou  know  her  to  be  innocent.  Besides," 
she  added,  "  such  a  fine  girl  would  have  manufactured 
a  better-looking  bo}'.  He  is  no  more  like  her  than  a 
potato  is  like  a  rose." 


244  The  Bagpi2)ers. 


TWENTY-FIRST   EVENING. 

The  winter  passed  and  the  spring  came,  but  Brulette 
never  went  back  to  her  amusements.  She  did  not  even 
regret  them,  having  seen  that  she  could  still  be  mistress 
of  all  hearts  if  she  chose  ;  but  she  said  that  so  man}'  men 
and  women  had  betrayed  her  friendship  that  now  she 
should  care  for  quality  only,  not  quantitj'.  The  poor 
child  did  not  then  know  all  the  wrong  that  had  been  done 
to  her.  Everybody  had  vilified  her,  but  no  one  had  vet 
dared  to  insult  her.  When  the}'  looked  at  her  the}'  saw 
virtue  written  on  her  face  ;  but  when  her  back  was  turned 
they  revenged  th(^nselves  in  words,  for  the  respect  which 
they  could  not  help  feeling,  and  they  yelped  at  her  heels 
like  a  cowardly  dog  that  dares  not  spring  at  your  face, 

Pere  Brulet  was  getting  old  ;  he  grew  deafer,  and  lived 
so  much  in  himself,  hke  all  aged  people,  that  he  paid  no 
attention  to  the  talk  of  the  town.  Father  and  daughter 
were  therefore  less  troubled  than  people  hoped  to  make 
them,  and  my  own  father,  who  was  of  a  wise  and  Christian 
spirit  (as  were  the  rest  of  my  family) ,  advised  me,  and 
also  set  me  the  example,  not  to  worry  them  about  it,  say- 
ing that  the  truth  would  come  to  light  some  day  and  the 
wicked  tongues  be  punished. 

Time,  which  is  a  grand  sweeper,  began,  before  long,  to 
get  rid  of  the  vile  dust.  Brulette,  who  disdained  revenge, 
would  take  none  but  that  of  receiving  very  coldly  the 
advances  that  were  made  to  her.  It  happened,  as  it 
usually  does,  that  she  found  friends  among  those  who  had 


The  Bagpipers.  245 

never  been  her  lovers,  and  these  friends,  having  no 
interest  of  their  own,  protected  lier  in  a  way  that  she  was 
not  aware  of.  I  am  not  speaking  of  Mariton,  who  was 
hke  a  mother  to  her,  and  who,  in  her  inn  bar-room,  came 
ver}'  near  flinging  the  jugs  at  the  heads  of  the  drinkers 
when  the}'  ventured  to  sing  out  "  Josette  ;"  but  I  mean 
persons  whom  no  one  could  accuse  of  bhndly  supporting 
her,  and  who  shamed  her  detractors. 

Thus  it  was  that  Brulette  had  brought  herself  down,  at 
first  with  difficult}',  then,  little  by  little,  contentedlj',  to  a 
quieter  life  than  in  the  past.  She  was  visited  b}'  sensible 
persons,  and  came  often  to  our  house,  bringing  Chai'lot, 
whose  swollen  face  had  improved  during  the  preceding 
winter,  while  his  temper  had  grown  much  more  amiable. 
The  child  was  really  not  so  ugly  as  he  was  coarse,  and 
after  Brulette  had  tamed  him  b}'  the  winsome  force  of  her 
gentleness  and  affection  we  saw  that  his  big  black  eyes 
were  not  without  intelligence,  and  that  when  his  broad 
mouth  was  willins;  to  smile  it  was  realh'  more  funny  than 
hideous.  He  had  passed  through  a  drooling  illness,  dur- 
ing which  Brulette,  forraerl}^  so  easily  disgusted,  had 
nursed  him  and  wiped  him  and  tended  him  carefully,  till 
he  was  now  the  healthiest  little  fellow,  and  the  nicest 
and  the  cleanest  in  the  village.  His  jaws  were  still  too 
heav}-  and  his  nose  too  short  for  beaut}',  but  inasmuch 
as  health  is  the  chief  thing  with  the  little  beggars,  every 
one  took  notice  of  his  size,  his  strength,  and  his  deter- 
mined air. 

But  the  thing  that  made  Brulette  proudest  of  her  handi- 
work was  that  Chariot  became  every  day  prettier  in 
speech  and  more  generous  in  heart.  When  she  first  had 
him  he  swore  in  a  way  to  daunt  a  regiment ;  but  she  had 
made  him  forget  all  that,  and  had  taught  him  a  number 


246  The  Bagpipers. 

of  nice  little  praj-ers,  and  all  sorts  of  amusing  and  quaint 
sayings,  which  he  emplo3'ed  in  his  own  wa}'  to  the  enter- 
tainment of  everybod3\  He  was  not  born  affectionate  and 
would  never  kiss  an}"  one  willing!}',  but  for  his  darling,  as 
he  called  Brulette,  he  showed  such  a  violent  attachment 
that  if  he  had  done  anything  naughty,  —  such  as  cutting 
up  his  pinafore  to  make  cravats,  or  sticking  his  sabots 
into  the  soup-pot,  he  would  forestall  all  reproaches  and 
cling  to  her  neck  with  such  strength  that  she  had  n't  the 
heart  to  scold  him. 

In  May  of  that  3'ear  we  were  invited  to  the  wedding  of 
a  cousin  at  Chassin,  who  sent  over  a  cart  the  night  before 
to  fetch  us,  with  a  message  to  Brulette  that  if  she  did  not 
come  and  bring  Chariot,  it  would  throw  a  gloom  over  the 
marriage  da}'. 

Chassin  is  a  pretty  place  on  the  river  Gourdon,  about 
six  miles  distant  from  our  village.  The  country  reminded 
me  slightly  of  the  Bourbon nais.  Brulette,  who  was  a 
small  eater,  soon  left  the  noise  of  the  feast,  and  went  to 
walk  outside  and  amuse  Chariot.  "  Indeed,"  she  said  to 
me,  "I  should  like  to  take  him  into  some  quiet,  shady 
place ;  for  this  is  his  sleeping-time,  and  the  noise  of  the 
party  keeps  him  awake,  and  I  am  afraid  he  will  be  very 
cross  this  evening." 

As  it  was  very  hot,  I  offered  to  take  her  into  a  little 
wood,  formerly  kept  as  a  warren,  which  adjoins  the  old 
castle,  and  being  chokeful  of  briers  and  ditches,  is  a  very 
sheltered  and  retired  spot.  "Very  good,"  she  said,  "the 
little  one  can  sleep  on  my  petticoat,  and  3'ou  can  go  back 
and  enjoy  yourself" 

When  we  got  there  I  begged  her  to  let  me  sta3\ 

"  I  am  not  so  devoted  to  weddings  as  I  once  was,"  I 
said  to  her.     "  I  shall  amuse  myself  as  well,  if  not  better, 


The  Bagpipers.  247 

talking  with  3-011.     A  part}'  is  very  tiresome  if  3'ou  are  not 
among  your  own  people  and  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"Very  well,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  see  plainlj-,  my  poor 
cousin,  that  I  am  a  weight  upon  3'our  hands  ;  and  yet  3'ou 
take  it  with  such  patience  and  good-will  that  I  don't  know 
how  I  shall  ever  do  without  it.  However,  that  time  must 
come,  for  3'ou  are  now  of  an  age  to  settle,  and  the  wife 
3'Ou  choose  ma3'  cast  an  evil  eye.  upon  me,  as  so  man}'  do, 
and  might  never  be  brought  to  believe  that  I  deserve  your 
friendship  and  hers." 

"  It  is  too  soon  to  wony  yourself  about  that,"  I  replied, 
settling  the  fat  Chariot  on  m}-  blouse,  which  I  laid  on  the 
grass  while  she  sat  down  beside  him  to  keep  off  the  flies. 
''  I  am  not  thinking  of  marriage,  and  if  I  were,  I  swear  my 
wife  should  keep  on  good  terms  with  3-0U  or  I  would  be  on 
bad  terms  with  her.  She  would  have  a  crooked  heart  in- 
deed if  she  could  not  see  that  m3'  regard  for  30U  is  the 
most  honorable  of  all  friendships,  and  if  she  could  n't  com- 
prehend that  having  followed  3'ou  through  all  3'our  jo3'S 
and  all  3-our  troubles,  I  am  so  accustomed  to  3'our  com- 
panionship that  3-0U  and  I  are  one.  But  how  about  3'ou, 
cousin?  are  3'OU  thinking  of  marriage,  or  have  3'OU  sworn 
off  on  that  subject?" 

"  Oh !  as  for  me,  3'es,  I  think  so,  Tiennet,  if  it  suits  the 
will  of  God.  I  am  all  but  of  age,  and  I  think  I  have 
waited  so  long  for  the  wish  to  marr3^  that  now  I  have  let 
the  time  go  b3'." 

"Perhaps  it  is  only  just  beginning,  dear.  The  love  of 
amusement  has  gone,  and  the  love  of  children  has  come, 
and  I  see  how  3-ou  are  settling  down  to  a  quiet  home  life  ; 
but  nevertheless  3-ou  are  still  in  3'our  spring-time,  like  the 
earth  whose  flowers  are  just  blooming.  You  know  I  don't 
flatter  3'ou,  and  so  you  may  believe  me  when  I  tell  3-ou 


248  The  Bagpipers. 

that  YOU  have  never  been  so  pretty,  though  you  have  grown 
rather  pale  —  like  Therence,  the  girl  of  the  woods.  You 
have  even  caught  a  sad  little  look  like  hers,  which  goes  very 
well  with  3'our  plain  caps  and  that  gray  gown.  The  fact 
is,  I  believe  3'our  inside  being  has  changed  and  3"ou  are 
going  to  be  a  sister  of  charity  —  if  you  are  not  in  love." 

"  Don't  talk  about  that,  my  dear  friend,"  cried  Brulette. 
*'  I  might  have  turned  either  to  love  or  piety  a  year  ago. 
I  felt,  as  you  say,  changed  within.  But  now,  here  I  am, 
tied  to  the  cares  of  life  without  finding  either  the  sweet- 
ness of  love  or  the  strength  of  faith.  It  seems  to  me  that 
I  am  tied  to  a  3'oke  and  can  onl}^  push  forward  by  my 
head,  without  knowing  what  sort  of  cart  I  am  dragging 
behind  me.  You  see  that  I  am  not  very  sad  under  it  and 
that  I  don't  mean  to  die  of  it ;  and  yet,  I  own  that  I  regret 
something  in  mj^  life  —  not  what  has  been,  but  what  might 
have  been," 

"  Come,  Brulette,"  I  said,  sitting  down  by  her  and  tak- 
ing her  hand,  "  perhaps  the  time  has  come  for  confidence. 
You  can  tell  me  everything  without  fear  of  ni}'  feeling  grief 
or  jealousy.  I  am  cured  of  wishing  for  anything  that 
you  can't  give  me.  But  give  me  one  thing,  for  it  is  my 
due,  —  give  me  your  confidence  about  your  troubles." 

Brulette  became  scarlet  and  made  an  efl^ort  to  speak, 
but  could  not  say  a  word.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  I  were 
forcing  her  to  confess  to  her  own  soul,  and  she  had  fore- 
borne  so  long  tliat  now  she  did  not  know  how  to  do  it. 

She  raised  her  beautiful  e3'es  and  looked  at  the  country 
before  us,  for  we  were  sitting  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  on  a 
grassy  terrace  overlooking  a  pretty  vallev  broken  up  into 
rolling  ground  green  with  cultivation.  At  our  feet  flowed 
the  little  river,  and  beyond,  the  ground  rose  rapidly  under 
a  fine  wood  of  full-o:rown  oaks,  less  extensive  but  boasting 


The  Bagpipers,  249 

as  large  trees  as  any  we  had  seen  in  the  forest  of  Allen. 
I  saw  in  Brulette's  eyes  the  thoughts  she  was  thinking, 
and  taking  her  hand,  which  she  had  withdrawn  from  mine 
to  i^ress  her  heart  as  if  it  pained  her,  I  said,  in  a  tone  that 
was  neither  jest  nor  mischief,  — 

"  Tell  me,  is  it  Huriel  or  Joseph?  " 

"  It  is  not  Joseph  !  "  she  replied,  hastity. 

"Then  it  is  Huriel;  but  are  you  free  to  follow  your 
inclinations?  " 

"How  can  I  have  any  inclinations,"  she  answered, 
blushing  more  and  more,  "  for  a  person  who  has  doubtless 
never  thought  of  me  ?  " 

"  That  is  no  reason." 

"  Yes  it  is,  I  tell  3'ou." 

"  No,  I  swear  it  is  n't.  I  had  plenty  of  inclination  for 
you." 

"  But  you  got  over  it." 

' '  And  }-ou  are  trying  hard  to  get  over  yours ;  that 
shows  3'ou  are  still  ill  of  it.     But  Joseph  ?  " 

"Well,  what  of  Joseph?" 

"  You  were  never  bound  to  him  ?  " 

' '  You  know  that  well  enough  !  " 

"But  — Chariot?" 

"Chariot?" 

As  my  e^'es  turned  to  the  child,  hers  turned  too ;  then 
the}'  fell  back  on  me,  so  puzzled,  so  clear  with  innocence, 
that  I  was  ashamed  of  m}'  suspicions  as  though  I  had 
offered  her  an  insult. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  I  replied,  hastily.  "  I  said  '  Chariot  * 
because  I  thought  he  was  waking  up." 

At  that  moment  a  sound  of  bagpipes  reached  us  from 
the  other  side  of  the  river  among  the  oaks,  and  Brulctt© 
trembled  like  a  leaf  in  the  wind. 


250  The  Bagpipers, 


"  There  !  "  said  I,  "  the  bride's  dance  is  beginning,  and 


I  do  beUeve  the}'  are  sending  the  music  to  fetch  you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Brulette,  who  had  grown  very  pale, 
"  neither  the  air  nor  the  instrument  belong  to  this  region. 
Tiennet,  Tiennet,  either  I  am  crazy  —  or  he  who  is  play- 
ing down  there  —  " 

"Do  3'ou  see  him?"  I  cried,  running  to  the  edge  of 
the  terrace  and  looking  with  all  my  eyes ;  ' '  can  it  be 
Pere  Bastien  ?  " 

"I  see  no  one,"  she  said,  having  followed  me,  "but 
it  was  not  Pere  Bastien  —  neither  was  it  Joseph  —  it 
was  —  " 

"  Huriel,  perhaps!  that  seems  tome  less  certain  than 
the  river  that  parts  us.  But  let  us  go  at  any  rate  ;  we  may 
find  a  ford,  and  if  he  is  there  we  shall  certainly  catch  him, 
the  ga}^  muleteer,  and  find  out  what  he  is  thinking 
about." 

"  No,  Tiennet,  I  can't  leav^e  Chariot." 

' '  The  devil  take  that  child  !  Then  wait  for  me  here  ; 
I  am  going  alone." 

"No,  no,  no!  Tiennet,"  cried  Brulette,  holding  me 
with  both  hands  ;  "  it  is  dangerous  to  go  down  that  steep 
place." 

"  Whether  I  break  my  neck  or  not,  I  am  going  to  put 
you  out  of  3'our  miser}'." 

"What  misery?"  she  exclaimed,  still  holding  me,  but 
recovering  from  her  first  agitation  by  an  effbrt  of  pride. 
"What  does  it  matter  to  me  whether  Huriel  or  some 
one  else  is  in  the  wood?  Do  you  suppose  I  want  you  to 
run  after  a  man  who,  knowing  I  was  close  by,  wanted 
to  pass  on  ?  " 

"If  that  is  what  you  think,"  said  a  soft  voice  behind 
us,   "  I  think   we  had   better  go  away." 


The  Bagpipers.  251 

We  turned  round  at  the  first  word,  and  there  was 
Therence,  the  beautiful  Therence,  before  our  eyes. 

At  the  sight  Brulctte,  who  had  fretted  so  much  at  being 
forgotten  b}'  her,  lost  all  her  nerve  and  fell  into  Therence's 
arms  with  a  great  burst  of  tears. 

'*Well,  well!"  said  Therence,  kissing  her  with  the 
energ}^  of  a  daughter  of  the  woods.  "Did  3-ou  think  I 
had  forgotten  our  friendship?  Win' do  3'ou  judge  hardly 
of  people  who  have  never  passed  a  da}'  without  thinking 
of  you?" 

"Tell  her  quick I3' if  your  brother  is  here,  Therence," 
I  cried,  "  for  —  "  Brulette,  turning  quickl}',  put  her  hand 
on  my  lips,  and  I  caught  mj'self  up,  adding,  with  a  laugh, 
"  for  I  am  dying  to  see  him." 

"  My  brother  is  over  there,"  said  Therence,  "but  he 
does  not  know  3'ou  are  so  near.  Listen,  he  is  going  far- 
ther off;  3'ou  can  hardl}"  hear  his  music  now." 

She  looked  at  Brulette,  who  had  grown  pale  again,  and 
added,  laughing:  "He  is  too  far  off  to  call  him;  but 
he  will  soon  turn  and  come  round  b\'  the  ruined  castle. 
Then,  if  you  don't  disdain  him,  Brulette,  and  will  not 
prevent  me,  I  shall  give  him  a  surprise  he  does  not  ex- 
pect ;  for  he  did  not  think  of  seeing  3'ou  till  to-night. 
We  were  on  our  wa3'  to  your  village  to  pa3^  3'Ou  a  visit, 
aud  it  is  a  great  happiness  to  me  to  have  met  3'ou  here 
and  saved  a  dela3'  in  our  meeting.  Let  us  go  under  the 
trees,  for  if  he  sees  3'Ou  from  where  he  is,  he  is  capable 
of  drowning  himself  in  that  river  in  tr3'ing  to  get  to  3'OU, 
not  knowing  the  fords." 

We  turned  back  and  sat  down  near  Chariot,  Therence 
asking,  wdth  that  grand,  simple  manner  of  hers,  whether 
he  was  mine.  "  Not  unless  I  have  been  married  a  long 
time,"  I  answered,  "  which  is  not  so." 


252  Tlie  Bagpipers. 

"True,"  she  said,  looking  closely  at  the  child,  "he 
is  already  a  little  man  ;  but  you  might  have  been  married 
before  you  came  to  us." 

Then  she  added,  laughing,  that  she  knew  little  about 
the  growth  of  babies,  never  seeing  any  in  the  woods 
where  she  always  lived,  and  where  few  parents  ever  reared 
their  children.  "You  will  find  me  as  much  of  a  savage 
as  ever/'  she  continued,  "but  a  good  deal  less  irritable, 
and  I  hope  vay  dear  Brulette  will  have  no  cause  to  com- 
plain of  my  ill-temper." 

"I  do  think,"  said  Brulette,  "that  yow  seem  ga^^er, 
and  better  in  health,  —  and  so  much  handsomer  that  it 
dazzles  my  e3'es  to  look  at  3'ou." 

The  same  thought  had  struck  ray  mind  on  seeing 
Therence.  She  had  laid  in  a  stock  of  health  and  fresh 
clear  color  in  her  cheeks  which  made  her  another  woman. 
If  her  eyes  were  still  too  deep  sunken,  the  black  brows 
no  longer  lowered  over  them  and  hid  their  fire ;  and 
though  her  smile  was  still  proud,  there  was  a  charming 
gayety  in  it  at  times,  which  made  her  teeth  gleam  like 
dewdrops  on  a  flower.  The  pallor  of  fever  had  left  her 
face,  which  the  May  sun  had  rather  burned  during  her 
journey,  though  it  had  made  the  roses  bloom  ;  and  there 
was  something,  I  scarcely  know  what,  so  3'outhful,  so 
strong,  so  valiant  in  her  face,  that  my  heart  jumped  with 
an  idea  that  came  to  me,  heaven  knows  how,  as  I  looked 
to  see  if  the  velvety  black  mark  at  the  corner  of  her 
mouth  was  still  in  the  same  place. 

"Friends,"  she  said,  wiping  her  beautiful  hair,  which 
curled  naturally  and  which  the  heat  had  glued  to  her 
forehead,  "as  we  have  a  little  time  to  talk  before  my 
brother  joins  us,  I  want  to  tell  you  my  story,  without 
any  false  shame  or   pretences  ;    for  several   other  stories 


The  Bagpipers.  253 

hang  upon  it.  Oiih^  before  I  begin,  tell  me,  Brulette,  if 
Tiennet,  whom  yon  used  to  tliink  so  mucli  of,  is,  as 
I  think  he  is,  still  the  same,  so  that  I  can  take  up  the 
conversation  where  we  left  it — o.  year  ago  come  next 
harvest." 

"Yes,  dear  Therence,  that  ^-ou  ma^',"  answered  my 
cousin,  pleased  at  her  friend's  tone. 

"Well,  then,  Tiennet,"  continued  Therence,  with  a 
valiant  sincerit}^  all  her  own,  which  made  the  difference 
between  her  and  the  reserved  and  timid  Brulette,  "I 
reveal  nothing  you  did  not  know  in  telling  you  that  before 
your  visit  to  us  last  year  I  attached  myself  to  a  poor 
fellow,  sick  and  sad  in  mind  and  body,  very  much  as  a 
mother  is  attached  to  her  child.  I  did  not  then  know 
he  loved  another  girl,  and  he,  seeing  my  regard  for  liira, 
which  I  did  not  hide,  had  not  the  courage  to  tell  me  it  was 
not  returned.  Wh}'  Joseph  —  for  I  can  name  him,  and 
3'ou  see,  dear  friends,  that  I  don't  change  color  in  doing 
so  —  whj'  Joseph,  whom  I  had  so  often  entreated  to  tell 
me  tlie  causes  of  his  grief,  should  have  sworn  to  me  it 
was  nothing  more  than  a  longing  for  his  mother  and  his 
own  country,  I  do  not  know.  He  must  have  thought  me 
base,  and  he  did  m.e  great  injustice ;  for,  had  he  told  me 
the  truth,  I  mvself  would  have  gone  to  fetch  Brulette 
without  a  murmur,  and  without  making  the  great  mistake 
of  forming  a  low  opinion  of  her  which  I  did,  and  which  I 
now  confess,  and  ask  her  to  pardon." 

"  You  did  that  long  ago,  Therence,  and  there  is  nothing 
to  pardon  where  friendship  is." 

"Yes,  dear,"  replied  Therence,  "but  the  wrong  which 
3^ou  forget,  I  remember,  and  I  would  have  given  the  world 
to  repair  it  by  taking  good  care  of  Joseph,  and  showing 
him  friendship  and  good-nature  after  you  left  us.     Re- 


251-  The  Bagpipers, 

member,  friends,  that  I  bad  never  said  or  done  a  false 
thing ;  so  that  in  m}^  childhood,  my  father,  who  is  a  good 
judge,  used  to  call  me  Therence  the  Sincere.  When  I 
last  saw  you,  on  the  banks  of  your  own  Indre,  half-way 
to  your  village,  I  spoke  privately  with  Joseph  for  a 
moment,  begging  him  to  return  to  us  and  promising  there 
should  be  no  change  in  m}'  interest  and  care  for  his  health 
and  well-being.  Why,  then,  did  he  disbelieve  me  in  his 
heart ;  and  why,  promising  with  his  lips  to  return  (a  lie  of 
which  I  was  not  the  dupe),  —  why  did  he  contempt uoush' 
leave  me  forever,  as  though  I  were  a  shameless  girl  who 
would  torment  him  with  love-sick  follj'?" 

"  Do  30U  mean  to  say,"  I  interrupted,  "  that  Joseph, 
who  sta3'ed  onl}'  twenty-four  hours  with  us,  did  not  return 
to  your  woods,  —  if  onl}'  to  tell  you  his  plans  and  say 
good-bye?  Since  he  left  us  that  day  we  have  heard 
nothing  of  him." 

"  If  you  have  had  no  news  of  him,"  replied  Therence, 
''  I  have  some  to  give  you.  He  did  return  —  b^^  night,  like 
a  thief  who  fears  the  sunshine.  He  went  to  his  own  lodge 
and  took  his  clothes  and  his  bagpipe,  and  went  away 
without  crossing  the  threshold  of  my  father's  hut,  or  so 
much  as  glancing  our  way.  I  was  awake  and  saw  it  all. 
I  watched  ever}-  action,  and  when  he  disappeared  in  the 
woods,  I  felt  I  was  as  rigid  as  death.  My  father  warmed 
me  in  the  raj's  of  the  good  God  and  his  own  great  heart. 
He  took  me  awa}'  to  the  open  moor,  and  talked  to  me  all 
one  day,  and  all  the  next  night,  till  I  was  able  to  pray 
and  sleep.  You  know  my  father  a  little,  dear  friends, 
but  you  cannot  know  how  he  loves  his  children,  how  he 
comforts  them,  how  he  finds  just  the  right  thing  to  sa}'  to 
make  them  like  himself,  who  is  an  angel  from  heaven 
hidden  under  the  bark  of  an  old  oak !     My  father  cured 


The  Bagpipers.  255 

me.     If  it  were  not  for  him,  I  should  despise  Joseph  ;  as 
it  is,  I  have  only  ceased  to  love  him." 

Ending  thus,  Therence  again  wiped  her  fine  forehead, 
wet  with  perspiration,  drew  a  long  breath,  kissed  Brulette, 
and  held  out  to  me,  laughing,  her  large  and  well-shaped 
white  hand,  and  shook  mine  with  the  frankness  of  a 
young  man. 


256  The  Bagpipers. 


TWENTY-SECOND   EVENING. 

I  SAW  that  Brnlette  was  inclined  to  blame  Joseph  very 
severel}',  and  I  thought  I  ought  to  defend  him  a  little.  "  I 
don't  approve  of  his  conduct  so  far  as  it  shows  ingratitude 
to  you,  Therence,"  I  said,  "  but  inasmuch  as  you  are  now 
able  to  judge  him  quite  fairly,  won't  you  admit  that  at  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  there  was  a  sense  of  respect  for  you  and 
a  fear  of  deceiving  you  ?  All  the  world  is  not  like  you,  m}' 
beautiful  girl  of  the  woods,  and  I  think  that  very  few  per- 
sons have  a  pure  enough  heart  and  courage  enough  to  go 
straight  to  the  point  and  tell  things  just  as  they  are. 
You  have  an  amount  of  strength  and  virtue  in  3'ou  of 
which  Joseph,  and  many  others  in  his  place,  would  be 
wholl}^  incapable." 

"  I  don't  understand  3'ou,"  said  Therence. 

"I  do,"  said  Brnlette;  "Joseph  feared,  perhaps,  to 
put  himself  in  the  way  of  being  charmed  by  3'our  beauty, 
and  of  loving  3'ou  for  that,  without  giving  you  his  whole 
heart  as  you  deserved." 

"•Oh!"  cried  Therence,  scarlet  with  wounded  pride, 
"  that  is  just  what  I  complain  of.  833-  it  boldl3'.  Joseph 
feared  to  entice  me  into  wronsi-doino;.  He  took  no  ac- 
count  of  m3^  good  sense  or  m3'  honor.  Well,  his  respect 
would  have  consoled  me ;  his  fear  is  humiliating.  Never 
mind,  Brnlette,  I  forgive  him,  because  I  no  longer  suffer, 
and  I  feel  m3'self  above  him  ;  but  nothing  can  ever  take 
out  of  m3'  heart  the  sense  that  Joseph  was  ungrateful  to 
me,  and  took  a  low  view  of  his  dutj'.     I  would  ask  you  to 


The  Bagpipers.  25T 

let  US  say  no  more  about  it,  if  I  were  not  obliged  to  tell 
3'ou  the  rest ;  but  I  must  speak,  otherwise  you  will  not 
know  what  to  think  of  m}'  brother's  conduct." 

"  Ah,  Therence  !  "  said  Brulette,  '^  I  long  to  know  wliat 
were  the  consequences  of  that  misfortune  which  troubled 
us  all  so  much  over  there." 

"  M3'  brother  did  not  do  as  we  expected,"  replied 
Therence.  "  Instead  of  hiding  his  unfortunate  secret  in 
distant  places,  he  retraced  his  steps  at  the  end  of  a  week, 
and  went  to  find  the  Carmelite  friar  in  his  convent,  which 
is  over  b}'  Montlu9on.  'Brother  Nicolas,'  he  said  to  him, 
'  I  can't  live  with  such  a  weight  on  my  heart.  You  told 
me  to  confess  mj'self  to  God,  but  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
justice  on  tliis  earth ;  it  ma}'  not  be  practised,  but  it  is 
none  the  less  a  law  from  heaven.  I  must  confess  before 
men,  and  bear  the  blame  and  the  penalty  I  deserve.'  '  One 
moment,  my  son,'  answered  the  friar ;  '  men  invented 
the  peualt}'  of  death,  which  God  disapproves,  and  they 
might  kill  you  deliberate!}'  for  having  killed  another  unin- 
tentionally.' 'That  is  not  possible,'  said  my  brother;  '  I 
never  intended  to  kill  him,  and  I  can  prove  it.'  '  To  prove 
it  you  must  call  witnesses,'  said  the  monk,  '  and  that  will 
compromise  your  comrades  and  your  chief,  who  is  my 
nephew,  and  no  more  a  murderer  than  you  in  his  heart ; 
you  will  expose  them  all  to  be  harassed  by  the  law,  and  you 
will  see  them  forced  to  betray  the  oaths  of  your  fraternity. 
Come,  stay  here  in  my  convent,  and  wait  for  me.  I  will 
undertake  to  settle  the  matter,  provided  you  won't  ask  me 
too  closel}'  how  I  have  done  it.' 

"  Thereupon  the  friar  went  to  consult  his  abbe,  who  sent 
him  to  the  bishop,  whom  we  call  in  our  parts  the  chief 
priest,  as  they  did  in  the  olden  time,  and  who  is  the  bishop 
of  Montlu^on.     The  chief  priest,  who  has  a  right  to  be 

17 


258  The  Bagpipers. 

heard  by  the  chief  judges,  said  and  did  things  we  know 
nothing  about.  Then  he  sent  for  my  brother  and  said  to 
him,  '  My  son,  confess  ^^ourself  to  me  as  j-ou  would  to 
God/  When  Huriel  had  told  him  the  whole  truth,  from 
end  to  end,  the  bishop  said :  '  Repent  and  do  penance,  my 
son.  The  matter  is  settled  before  men  ;  you  have  nothing 
to  dread  in  future;  but  you  must  appease  the  wrath  of 
God,  and  in  order  to  do  that,  I  desire  3'ou  to  leave  the 
company  and  brotherhood  of  the  muleteers,  who  are  men 
without  religion  and  whose  secret  practices  are  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  heaven  and  earth.'  My  brother  having 
humbly  remarked  to  him  that  there  were  honest  folk 
among  them,  the  chief  priest  replied :  '  So  much  the 
worse  ;  if  those  honest  folk  refused  to  take  the  oaths  they 
require,  the  society  would  cease  to  do  evil,  and  would  be- 
come a  corporation  of  working-men  as  respectable  as  any 
other.'  M}^  brother  thought  over  these  words  of  the  chief 
priest,  and  would  have  wished  to  reform  the  practices  of 
his  fraternitj"  rather  than  do  away  with  them  altogetlier. 
He  went  to  meet  an  assembly"  of  muleteers  and  talked  to 
them  very  sensibly,  —  so  they  told  me  ;  but  after  listening 
to  him  quietly,  they  answered  that  the}'  neither  could  nor 
would  change  an}"  of  their  customs.  Whereupon  he  paid 
his  forfeit  and  sold  his  mules,  keeping  only  the  clairhi 
for  our  use.  So  Brulette,  you  are  not  going  to  see  a 
muleteer,  but  a  good,  steady  wood-cutter  who  works  for 
his  father." 

"  And  who  may  find  it  very  hard  to  get  accustomed  to 
such  work,"  said  Brulette,  hiding  the  pleasure  this  news 
gave  her. 

"  If  he  did  find  it  hard  to  change  his  ways  of  life,"  an- 
swered Therence,  "he  is  well  consoled  when  he  remem- 
bers how  afraid  you  were  of  the  muleteers,  and  that  in 


The  Bagpipers.  259 

your  country  they  are  looked  upon  as  an  abomination. 
But  now  that  I  have  satisfied  3'our  impatience  to  know- 
how  my  brother  got  out  of  his  troubles,  I  must  tell  3'ou 
something  more  about  Joseph,  which  may  make  you 
angr\',  Brulette,  though  it  will  also  astonish  you." 

As  Therence  said  that  with  a  spice  of  malice  and  a 
laugh,  Brulette  showed  no  uneasiness,  and  told  her  to 
explain. 

'^  You  must  know,"  continued  Therence,  "  that  we  have 
spent  the  last  three  months  in  the  forest  of  Montaigu, 
where  we  met  Joseph,  in  good  health,  but  serious  as 
usual,  and  still  wrapped  up  in  himself.  If  you  want  to 
know  where  he  now  is,  I  will  tell  you  that  we  have 
left  him  there  with  my  father,  who  is  helping  him  to  get 
admitted  to  the  association  of  bagpipers  ;  for  3'ou  know, 
or  3'OU  don't  know,  that  they  too,  are  a  fraternity,  and 
have  secret  practices  which  others  know  nothing  about. 
At  first  Joseph  was  rather  embarrassed  at  seeing  us.  He 
seemed  ashamed  to  speak  to  me  and  might  have  avoided  us 
altogether  if  my  father,  after  reproaching  him  for  his  want 
of  confidence  and  friendship,  had  not  pressed  him  to  re- 
main, —  for  he  knew  he  could  still  be  useful  to  him.  When 
Joseph  perceived  that  I  was  quite  at  my  ease  and  had  no 
unkind  recollections,  he  made  bold  to  ask  for  the  return  of 
our  friendship,  and  he  even  tried  to  excuse  his  conduct ; 
but  my  father,  who  would  not  let  him  lay  a  finger  on  my 
wound,  turned  the  matter  into  a  joke,  and  made  him  go 
to  work,  both  in  the  woods  and  at  his  music,  so  as  to 
bring  the  matter  to  an  end  as  soon  as  possible.  I  was  a 
good  deal  astonished  that  he  never  mentioned  any  of  3*011, 
and  I  questioned  him  without  getting  a  word  out  of  him. 
Neither  m3''  brother  nor  I  had  heard  anything  of  you 
(until  last   week,  when  we  came  through  the  village  of 


260  TJte  Bagpipers. 

Hiiriel).     We    were   much   worried   about   3'ou,   and   my 
father  told  Joseph  rather  sharply  that  if  he  had  letters 
from  his  own  people  he  ought  at  least  to  tell  us  whether 
you   were  dead  or  alive.     Joseph  answered  shortl}',  in  a 
voice  that  sounded  ver}^  hollow  :   '  Every  bod}'  is  well,  and 
so  am  I.'     M}'  father,  who  never  beats  about  the  bush, 
told   him  to  speak  out,  but  he  answered  stiffl}-,    '  I  tell 
you,  master,  that   our  friends   over  there   are  well   and 
quite  contented,  and  if  3'ou  will  give  me  your  daughter  in 
marriage  I  shall  be  contented  too.'     At  first  we  thought 
he  was  craz}^,  and  tried  to  make  a  joke  of  it,  though  his 
manner  made  us  rather  uneasy.     But  he  returned  to  the 
subject  two  da3's  later,  and  asked  me  if  I  had  any  re- 
gard for   him.     I  took  no   other   revenge  for   his  tardy 
offer  than  to  say,  '  Yes,  Joseph,  I  have  as  much  regard 
for  3^ou  as  Brulette  has.'     He  drew  in  his  lips,  lowered  his 
head,  and  did   not   say  another  word.     But  my  brother, 
having  questioned  him  later,  received  this  reply  :  '  Huriel, 
I  no  longer  think  of  Brulette,  and  I  beg  3'ou  never  to  men- 
tion her  to  me  again.'     We  could  get  nothing  more  out  of 
him  except  that  he  was  resolved,  as  soon  as  he  should  be 
received  into  the  fraternity'  of  bagpipers,  to  begin  his  ser- 
vice for  a  time  in  his  own  countr}',  and  prove  to  his  mother 
that  he  was  able  to  support  her ;  after  which  he  intended 
to  take  her  to  live  with  him  in  La  Marche  or  the  Bourbon- 
nais,  provided  I  would  become  his  wife.     This   brought 
about  a  grand  explanation  between  m}'  father,  my  brother, 
and  myself.     Both  tried  to  make  me  own  that  I  might  be 
induced  to  consent.     But  Joseph  had  come  back  too  late 
for  me,  and  I  had  made  too  many  reflections  about  him. 
I  quietly  refused,  feeling  no  longer  any  regard  for  him, 
and  conscious  also  that  he  had  none  for  me.     I  am  too 
proud  a  girl  to  be  taken  as  a  remedy  for  disappointment. 


The  Bagpipers.  261 

I  supposed  3'ou  had  written  him  to  put  an  end  to  his 
hopes." 

"  No,"  said  Brulette,  "  I  did  not,  and  it  is  onl}'  b}^  the 
mercy  of  God  tliat  he  has  forgotten  me.  Perhaps  it  was 
that  he  began  to  know  you  better,  my  Therence." 

"No,  no,"  cried  the  girl  of  the  woods,  resohitel}',  "  If 
it  was  not  disappointment  at  3'our  refusal,  it  was  pique 
at  my  cure.  He  onlj^  cared  for  me  because  I  had  ceased 
to  care  for  him.  If  that  is  his  love,  it  is  not  mine,  Bru- 
lette. All  or  nothing ;  yes  for  life,  in  all  frankness  ;  or 
no  for  life,  with  all  freedom.  There  's  that  child  waking 
up,"  she  continued,  interrupting  herself,  "  and  I  want  to 
take  you  to  my  new  abode  for  a  moment ;  it  is  in  the  old 
castle  of  Chassin." 

"  But  won't  3'ou  tell  us,"  said  Brulette,  who  was  very 
much  puzzled  by  all  she  heard,  "  how  and  why  you  are 
in  this  part  of  the  country  ?  " 

"You  are  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  know,"  replied 
Therence  ;   "I  want  you  to  see  first." 

Taking  Brulette  round  the  neck  with  her  beautiful  bare 
arm,  well  browned  b}'  the  sun,  she  led  her  away  without 
giving  her  time  to  take  Chariot,  whom  she  herself  caught 
up  like  a  bundle  under  her  other  arm,  although  he  was 
now  as  heavy  as  a  little  calf. 

The  fief  of  Chassin  was  once  a  castle,  as  I  have  heard 
sa}',  with  seignorial  rights  and  laws ;  but  at  the  time  of 
which  I  am  telling,  nothing  remained  of  the  building  but 
the  porch,  which  was  a  structure  of  some  importance, 
heavil^^  built,  and  so  arranged  that  there  were  lodging- 
rooms  on  both  sides  of  it.  It  seemed  that  the  part  of  the 
building  which  I  have  called  a  joorch,  the  use  of  which  is 
difficult  to  explain  at  tlie  present  time  (on  account  of  its 
peculiar  construction),  was  really  a  vaulted  chamber  lead- 


262  The  Bagpipers. 

ing  to  other  buildings ;  for  as  to  those  that  still  remain 
around  the  courtyard,  which  are  only  miserable  stables 
and  dilapidated  barns,  I  don't  know  what  uses  they  could 
have  been  put  to,  or  what  comfort  could  have  been  found 
in  them.  There  were  still,  at  the  time  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  three  or  four  unfurnished  rooms  which  seemed 
quite  ancient,  but  if  an}^  great  lord  ever  took  his  pleasure 
in  them  he  must  have  wanted  very  little  of  that  article. 

And  yet  it  was  among  these  ruins  that  happiness  was 
awaiting  some  of  those  whose  history  I  am  telUng  you ; 
and,  as  if  there  were  something  within  each  human  being 
which  tells  him  in  advance  of  coming  blessings,  neither 
Brulette  nor  I  saw  anything  sad  or  uglj'  in  this  old  place. 
The  grassy  courtyard,  surrounded  on  two  sides  by  the 
ruins  and  on  the  other  two  hy  the  moat  and  the  little 
wood  through  which  we  passed ;  the  great  hedge,  where 
I  saw  with  surprise  shrubs  which  are  seen  only  in 
the  gardens  of  the  wealthy  (showing  that  the  place  had 
once  known  care  and  beauty) ;  the  clumsy  gatewa}^, 
choked  up  with  rubbish,  where  stone  benches  could  still 
be  seen,  as  if  in  former  days  some  warder  had  had 
charge  of  this  barrack  then  considered  precious  ;  the  long 
brambles  which  ran  from  end  to  end  of  this  squalid  en- 
closure, —  all  tliese  things,  which  made  the  whole  place 
resemble  a  prison,  closed,  deserted,  and  forgotten,  seemed 
as  cheerful  to  our  eyes  as  the  springtide  sun  which  was 
forcing  its  way  in  through  the  crevices  and  drying  up  the 
dampness.  Perhaps,  too,  the  sight  of  our  old  acquaint- 
ance, the  clairm,  who  was  feeding  on  the  turf,  gave  us 
warning  of  the  coming  of  a  true  friend.  I  think  he  recog- 
nized us,  for  he  came  up  to  be  stroked,  and  Brulette  could 
not  refrain  from  kissing  the  white  star  on  his  forehead. 

''  This  is  my  chateau,"  said  Therence,  taking  us  into  a 


The  Bagpipers,  263 

room  where  her  bed  and  other  bits  of  furniture  were  al- 
ready installed;  "and  there  yoM  see  HurieFs  room  and 
mv  father's  on  the  other  side." 

"Your  father!  then  he  is  coming !  "  I  cried,  jumping 
for  joy.  "I  am  so  glad,  for  there  is  no  man  under  the 
snn  I  like  better." 

"  And  right  you  are,'*  said  Therence,  tapping  my  ear 
in  sign  of  friendship.  "And  he  likes  you.  Well,  you 
will  see  him  if  3-ou  come  back  next  week,  and  even  —  but 
it  is  too  soon  to  speak  of  that.     Here  is  the  master." 

Brulette  blushed,  thinking  it  was  Iluriel  that  Therence 
meant ;  but  it  was  onlj"  the  foreign  dealer  who  had  bought 
the  timber  of  the  forest  of  Chassin. 

I  say  "  forest "  because,  no  doubt,  there  were  forests  there 
once,  which  joined  the  small  but  beautiful  growth  of 
lofty  trees  that  we  saw  beyond  the  river.  As  the  name 
remains,  it  is  to  be  supposed  it  was  not  bestowed  for  noth- 
ing. The  conversation  which  ensued  between  Therence 
and  the  wood-merchant  explained  to  us  very  quickly-  the 
whole  thing.  He  came  from  the  Bourbonnais,  and  had 
long  known  the  Head- Woodsman  and  his  family  as  hard- 
working people  who  kept  their  word.  Being  in  quest, 
through  his  business,  of  some  tall  masts  for  the  king's 
navy,  he  had  discovered  these  remains  of  a  virgin  forest 
(very  rare  indeed  in  our  country),  and  had  given  the 
work  of  feUing  and  trimming  the  trees  to  Pere  Bastien ; 
and  the  latter  had  taken  it  all  the  more  willingly  because 
his  son  and  daughter,  knowing  the  place  to  be  in  our 
neighborhood,  were  delighted  with  the  idea  of  spend- 
ing the  whole  summer  and  perhaps  part  of  the  winter 
near  us. 

The  Head- Woodsman  was  allowed  the  selection  and  man- 
agement of  his  workmen  under  a  contract  with  forfeiture 


264  The  Bagpipers. 

between  himself  and  the  purchaser  of  the  timber  ;  and  the 
latter  had  induced  the  owner  of  the  estate  to  cede  him  the 
use,  gratis,  of  the  old  castle,  where  he,  a  well-to-do  trades- 
man, would  have  thought  himself  ver^'  ill-lodged,  but 
where  a  famity  of  wood-cutters  might  be  far  better  off  as 
the  season  grew  late  than  in  their  usual  lodges  of  logs 
and  heather. 

Huriel  and  his  sister  had  arrived  that  morning ;  the 
one  had  immediatel}^  begun  to  install  herself,  the  other 
had  been  making  acquaintance  with  the  wood,  the  land, 
and  the  people  of  the  neighborhood. 

We  overheard  the  purchaser  reminding  Therence,  who 
talked  business  as  well  as  an}'  man,  of  a  condition  in  his 
agreement  with  Pere  Bastien,  —  namely,  that  he  would 
employ  none  but  Bourbonnais  workmen  to  prepare  the 
trunks,  inasmuch  as  they  alone  understood  the  work  and 
would  not  spoil  the  finest  pieces,  like  the  laborers  of  our 
part  of  the  countr3\  "  Very  good,"  replied  the  woodland 
girl ;  "  but  for  the  branches  and  light- wood  we  shall 
employ  whom  we  please.  We  do  not  think  it  wise  to 
take  all  the  work  away  from  the  people  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, who  might  be  annoyed  and  molest  us  in  conse- 
quence. They  are  already  ill-inclined  to  all  who  are  not 
of  their  parish." 

''  Now  listen,  my  dear  Brulette,"  she  said,  when  the 
dealer  had  departed,  "it  is  my  opinion  that,  if  nothing 
detains  3'ou  in  your  village,  you  might  persuade  your 
grandfather  to  employ  his  time  very  pleasantl}'  here  this 
summer.  You  have  told  me  that  he  is  still  a  good  work- 
man, and  he  would  have  to  do  with  a  good  master, — I 
mean  my  father,  who  would  let  him  work  at  his  ease. 
You  could  lodge  here  at  no  expense  and  vfe  would  share 
the  housekeeping  together." 


The  Bagpipers.  265 

Then,  while  Brulette  was  burning  with  the  desire  to  say 
yes,  but  not  daring  to  betray  herself,  Therence  added, 
*'If  3'ou  hesitate,  I  shall  think  ^-our  heart  is  given  in 
your  own  village  and  that  m}'"  brother  has  come  too 
late." 

"Too  late!"  cried  a  ringing  voice  which  came  from 
the  ivy-covered  window.  "  God  grant  that  those  words 
be  false !  " 

And  Huriel,  handsome  and  fresh-looking  as  he  always 
was  when  the  charcoal  no  longer  concealed  him,  sprang 
into  the  room  and  caught  Brulette  in  his  arms  to  kiss  her 
on  the  cheeks ;  for  he  would  n't  stand  on  ceremony,  and 
he  had  no  notion  of  the  ratlier  ic}'  behavior  of  the  people 
in  our  parts.  Pie  seemed  so  glad,  and  talked  so  loud, 
and  laughed  so  heartily  that  she  could  not  be  angry  witli 
him.  He  kneaded  me  like  a  bit  of  dongh  and  jumped 
about  the  room  as  if  joy  and  friendship  had  the  effect  of 
new  wine. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  spied  Chariot  and  stopped  short, 
tried  to  look  awaj',  forced  himself  to  say  a  few  words 
which  had  no  connection  with  the  child,  then  sat  down 
on  his  sister's  bed  and  turned  so  pale  that  I  thought  he 
was  going  to  faint  away. 

"What's  the  matter  with  him?"  cried  Therence, 
amazed.  Then,  touching  his  head,  she  said,  "  Good 
heavens,  it  is  a  cold  sweat !     Do  3'ou  feel  ill?" 

"  No,  no,"  said  Huriel,  rising  and  shaking  himself. 
"It  is  jo}^  —  the  sudden  excitement  —  it  is  nothing." 

Just  then  the  mother  of  the  bride  came  to  ask  why  we 
had  left  the  wedding,  and  whether  Brulette  or  the  child 
were  ill.  Seeing  that  we  were  detained  by  the  company 
of  strangers,  she  very  politely  invited  Huriel  and  Therence 
to   come  with  us  to  the  feast  and  to  the  dance.     This 


266  The  Lajpipcrs. 

woman,  who  was  my  aunt,  being  the  sister  of  my  father 
and  Brulette's  deceased  father,  seemed  to  m6  to  know 
the  secret  of  Chariot's  birth ;  for  she  had  asked  no  ques- 
tions and  had  taken  great  care  of  him  when  brought  to 
her  house.  I  had  even  heard  of  her  sa3ing  that  he  was 
a  relative,  and  the  people  of  Chassin  had  no  suspicion 
about  the  child. 

As  Huriel,  who  was  still  troubled  in  mind,  merely 
thanked  my  aunt  without  giving  any  decided  answer, 
Therence  roused  him  with  the  remark  that  Brulette  was 
obliged  to  go  back  to  the  wedding,  and  that  if  he  did  not 
go  he  might  lose  his  opportunity  of  bringing  about  what 
the}'  both  desired.  Huriel,  however,  was  still  uneasj'  and 
hesitating,  when  Brulette  said  to  him,  "  Do  you  really  not 
wish  to  dance  with  me  to-da}'  ?  " 

"Do  you  speak  true,  Brulette?"  he  said,  looking  her 
in  the  eye.     "  Do  you  wish  me  for  a  partner?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  ''  for  I  remember  how  well  3'ou 
dance." 

"  Is  that  the  onty  reason  why  3'ou  wish  for  me?"    " 

Brulette  was  embarrassed,  thinking  that  the  fellow  was 
too  much  in  a  hurry,  yet  not  daring  to  pla^'  off  her  former 
coquettish  little  airs,  so  fearful  was  she  of  seeing  him 
hurt  or  disappointed  again.  But  Therence  tried  to  help 
her  out  bj'  reproaching  Huriel  for  asking  too  much  the 
first  daj". 

"•You  are  right,  sister,"  he  answered.  "And  3et  I 
cannot  behave  differentl}'.  Hear  me,  Brulette,  and  forgive 
me.  You  must  promise  to  have  no  other  partner  but  me 
at  this  wedding,  or  I  cannot  go  at  all." 

"What  a  funny  fellow!"  cried  m}^  aunt,  who  was  a 
livel}^  little  woman  and  took  all  things  for  the  best.  "  A 
lover  of  yours,  my  Brulette  ?     I  see  that  plainly  ;    and  no 


The  Bagpipers,  267 

half-hearted  one  either !  But,  m.y  Jacl,"  she  added,  turnmg 
to  Huriel,  "  I  would  have  you  know  that  it  is  not  the 
custom  in  these  parts  to  show  all  you  feel ;  and  no  one 
dances  several  times  running  with  a  girl  unless  there  has 
been  promise  of  heart  and  hand." 

"It  is  here  as  it  is  with  us,  my  good  dame,"  replied 
Huriel ;  "  nevertheless,  with  or  without  promise  of  her 
heart,  Brulette  must  now  promise  me  her  hand  for  the 
whole  dance." 

"  If  she  wishes  it,  I  shall  not  prevent  her,"  said  my 
aunt,  "  she  is  a  sensible  girl,  who  knows  ver}^  well  how 
to  behave.  I  have  done  my  dut}^  in  warning  her  that  she 
will  be  talked  about." 

^'  Brother,"  said  Therence,  "  I  think  you  are  crazy.  Is 
that  the  wa}'  to  do  with  Brulette,  whom  you  know  to  be 
so  reserved,  and  who  has  never  3'et  given  you  the  rights 
you  claim  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  may  be  mad,  and  she  may  be  shy,"  said  Huriel, 
"  but  all  the  same  m}'  madness  must  gain  the  day  and  her 
shyness  lose  it,  and  at  once.  I  ask  nothing  more  of  her 
than  to  allow  me  to  dance  with  her  to  the  end  of  this  wed- 
ding. If  after  that  she  does  not  wish  to  hear  of  me  again, 
she  is  mistress  of  her  actions." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,"  said  m}'  aunt,  "  but  the  harm 
will  then  have  been  done,  and  if  3'ou  withdraw  from  her 
then  who  will  repair  it?" 

"  She  knows  that  I  shall  not  withdraw,"  said  Huriel. 

"If  3-0U  know  that,"  said  mj'  aunt  to  Brulette,  "why 
don't  you  explain  yourself?  I  reall}'  can't  understand  this 
matter  at  all.  Did  3'ou  engage  yourself  to  this  lad  in  the 
Bourbon nais?  " 

"  No,"  said  Huriel,  without  giving  Brulette  time  to  an- 
swer.    "I  have  never  asked  her,  never!     What  I  now 


268  The  Bagpipers. 

ask  of  her  she,  and  she  alone,  without  consulting  any  one, 
must  decide  to  grant  or  not,  as  she  chooses." 

Brulette,  trembling  like  a  leaf,  had  turned  to  the  wall 
and  was  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands.  If  she  was  glad  to 
find  Huriel  so  resolute  about  her,  she  was  also  anno3'ed 
that  he  had  no  compassion  for  her  natural  hesitation  and 
timidity.  She  was  not  made,  like  Tlierence,  to  speak  out 
a  noble  '^yes"  before  all  the  world;  so  being,  and  not 
knowing  how  else  to  get  out  of  the  matter,  she  took  refuge 
in  her  eyes  and  began  to  cry. 


The  Bagpipers.  269 


TWENTY-THIRD   EVENING. 

"  You  are  a  downright  bashaw,  my  friend,"  said  mj'' 
aunt  to  Huriel,  giving  him  a  push  away  from  Brulette, 
whom  he  had  approached  in  much  excitement.  Then, 
taking  her  niece's  hands,  she  soothed  her  and  asked  her 
ver}'  gently  to  tell  her  the  real  meaning  of  it  all. 

"  If  your  grandfather  were  here,"  she  said,"  he  would 
explain  what  there  is  between  you  and  this  stranger  lad, 
and  we  could  then  leave  the  matter  to  his  judgment ;  but 
since  I  am  here  now  as  father  and  mother  both,  3'ou  must 
confide  in  me.  Do  you  wish  me  to  put  an  end  to  this  pur- 
suit? Shall  I,  instead  of  inviting  this  brute,  or  this  rogue, 
—  for  I  don't  know  which  to  call  him,  —  tell  him  that  he 
must  let  3'Ou  alone?" 

"  Exactly,"  said  Huriel,  ''  that 's  what  I  want.  I  want 
her  to  say  what  she  wishes,  and  I  will  obe}^  her  without 
anger,  and  she  shall  still  retain  my  friendship  and  respect. 
If  she  thinks  me  a  brute  or  a  rogue  let  her  pack  me  off. 
Speak,  Brulette  ;  I  shall  always  be  your  friend  and  ser- 
vant, —  3'ou  know  that  very  well." 

"  Be  what  you  will,"  said  Brulette  at  last,  rising  and 
giving  him  her  hand  ;  "  3'ou  protected  me  in  danger,  and 
3'Ou  have  suffered  such  troubles  on  m3''  account  that  I 
neither  can  nor  will  refuse  so  little  a  thing  as  to  dance 
with  3'OU  as  much  as  3'ou  like." 

"Bat  think  what  your  aunt  has  said,"  replied  Huriel, 
holding  her  hand.  "  You  will  be  talked  of,  and  if  noth- 
ing good  comes  of  it  between  us,  which  on  3-our  side  ma3' 


270  The  Bagpipers, 

still  be,  any  plan  yon  maj'have  for  another  marriage  would 
be  clestro3'ed  or  delayed." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  less  danger  than  the  one  you  threw 
yourself  into  on  my  account,"  said  Brulette.  "  Aunt, 
please  excuse  me,"  she  added,  "  if  I  cannot  explain  mat- 
ters just  now ;  but  believe  that  3-our  niece  loves  and 
respects  you,  and  will  never  give  you  reason  to  blush  for 
her." 

"  I  am  certain  of  that,"  said  my  aunt ;  "  but  what  an- 
swer am  I  to  give  to  the  questions  they  will  be  sure  to 
ask?" 

"  None  at  all,  aunt,"  said  Brulette,  resolutel3\  "  I  can 
afford  to  put  up  with  all  their  talk  ;  3'ou  know  I  am  in 
the  habit  of  doing  so." 

"  Thank  3'ou,  darling  of  my  heart !  "  cried  Huriel,  kiss- 
ing her  hand  six  or  seven  times.  "  You  shall  never  re- 
pent what  3'ou  have  granted  to  me." 

"Are  3'OU  coming,  3'ou  obstinate  fellow?"  said  m3'' 
aunt ;  "I  can't  stay  awa3'  any  longer,  and  if  I  don't  carr3^ 
Brulette  down  there  at  once,  the  bride  is  capable  of  leaving 
the  wedding  and  coming  after  her." 

"  Go  down,  Brulette  !"  cried  Therence,  "and  leave  the 
bab3'  with  me ;    I  promise  I  will  take  care  of  him." 

"Won't  you  come,  too,  my  handsome  Bourbonnaise  ?  " 
said  m3'  aunt,  who  could  not  keep  her  e3'es  off  Therence, 
"1  count  upon  3'OU." 

"  I  will  go  later,  my  good  woman,"  replied  Therence. 
"  But  just  now  I  want  to  give  m3"  brother  suitable  clothes 
in  which  to  do  honor  to  your  invitation ;  for,  as  3'Ou  see, 
we  are  still  in  our  travelling  things." 

M3^  aunt  carried  off  Brulette,  who  wanted  to  take  Char- 
lot  ;  but  Therence  insisted  on  keeping  him,  wishing  to 
leave  her  brother  free  with  his  darling  without  the  trouble 


The  Bagpipers,  271 

and  anno3'ance  of  a  small  child.  This  was  not  at  all  satis- 
factor}'  to  Chariot,  who  set  up  a  yell  when  he  saw  tliat 
Brulette  was  leaving  him,  and  fought  with  all  his  strength 
in  Therence's  arms  ;  but  she,  looking  at  him  with  a  grave 
and  determined  manner,  said  quietly  :  — 

"  You  must  be  quiet,  my  boy  ;   you  must,  3'ou  know." 

Chariot,  who  had  never  been  ordered  in  his  life,  was  so 
astonished  at  her  tone  that  he  gave  in  immediately ;  but 
as  I  saw  that  Brulette  was  distressed  at  leaving  him  with 
a  girl  who  had  never  in  her  life  touched  a  baby,  I  prom- 
ised to  bring  him  to  her  myself  if  there  should  be  the  least 
trouble,  and  persuaded  her  to  go  with  our  good  little  aunt 
who  was  getting  impatient. 

Huriel,  urged  by  his  sister,  went  off  to  his  room  to  shave 
and  dress,  and  I,  left  alone  with  Therence,  helped  her  to 
unpack  her  boxes  and  shake  out  the  clothes,  while  Chariot, 
quite  subdued,  stood,  with  open  mouth,  looking  on.  When 
I  had  carried  Huriel  the  clothes  which  Therence  piled  on 
my  arms,  I  returned  to  ask  if  she  didn't  mean  to  dress 
herself  too,  and  to  offer  to  take  the  child  to  walk  while 
she  did  so. 

"  As  for  me,"  she  said,  laying  out  her  finery  on  her 
bed,  "  I  will  go  if  Brulette  worries  after  me;  but  I  will 
admit  that  if  she  would  only  forget  me  for  a  time,  I  would 
prefer  to  sta}^  quietly  here.  In  any  case,  I  can  be  ready 
in  a  minute,  and  I  need  no  one  to  escort  me.  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  hunt  up  and  get  read}^  our  lodgings  in  travelling, 
like  a  regular  quartermaster  on  a  campaign,  and  nothing 
disturbs  me  wherever  I  am." 

"  Then  3-ou  don't  like  dancing?  "  I  said  ;  "  or  is  it  shy- 
ness at  making  new  acquaintances  that  makes  you  wish 
to  stay  at  home  ?  " 

"No,   I   don't  like   dancing,"    she   replied;    ''nor   the 


2T2  The  Bagpipers, 

racket,  nor  the  suppers,  and  particularly  not  the  waste  of 
time  which  brings  weariness." 

"  But  one  does  n't  love  dancing  for  dancing's  sake  only. 
Do  you  fear,  or  dislike,  the  attentions  the  young  men  pay 
to  the  girls  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  neither  fear  nor  repugnance,"  she  said, 
simph'.  *'It  does  not  amuse  me,  that  is  all.  I  am  not 
witty,  like  Brulette.  I  don't  know  how  to  answer  path', 
nor  how  to  make  other  people  talk,  and  I  can't  be  amus- 
ing. I  am  stupid  and  dreamj',  and  I  am  as  much  out  of 
place  in  a  lively  company-  as  a  wolf  or  a  fox  at  a  dance." 

"  You  don't  look  like  a  wolf  nor  any  other  villanous 
beast,  and  you  dance  as  gracefull}^  as  the  willow  branches 
when  the  breeze  caresses  them  —  " 

I  don't  know  what  more  1  was  going  to  say,  when  Huriel 
came  out  of  his  room,  handsome  as  the  sun  and  more  in  a 
hurrj'  to  get  off  than  I  was,  for  I  should  have  been  just  as 
satisfied  to  sta}'  with  his  sister.  She  kept  him  a  moment 
to  straighten  his  cravat  and  to  tie  his  garters  at  the  knee,  ap- 
parently not  thinking  him  jaunty  enough  to  dance  through 
the  wedding  with  Brulette,  and  as  she  did  so  she  said : 
"  Tell  me,  why  were  3'ou  so  jealous  of  her  dancing  with 
an}'  one  but  3'ou  ?  Were  not  you  afraid  of  frightening  her 
with  such  masterful  orders  ?  " 

"Tiennet!"  exclaimed  Huriel,  stopping  short  in  what 
he  was  doing,  and  taking  Chariot,  whom  he  placed  on  the 
table  and  gazed  at  with  all  his  ej'es,  "  Whose  child  is 
this?" 

Therence,  astonished,  first  asked  him  what  he  meant  b}' 
the  question,  and  then  asked  me  wh}'  I  did  not  answer  it. 

We  looked  each  other  in  the  eyes,  like  three  dolts,  and 
I  would  have  given  all  I  had  to  know  how  to  answer,  for 
I  saw  that  a  sword  was  hanging  over  our  heads.     At  last, 


The  Bagpipers.  273 

recollecting  the  virtue  and  truth  I  had  seen  that  very  after- 
noon in  m}^  cousin's  e3'es  when  I  had  pretty  nigh  asked  her 
the  same  question,  I  plucked  up  courage  and  going  straight 
to  the  point  1  said  to  Huriel,  "  Comrade,  if  3'ou  ask  that 
question  in  our  village  man}'  persons  will  tell  you  he  is 
Brulette's  child  —  " 

He  did  not  let  me  say  more  ;  but  picking  up  the  boy,  he 
felt  him  and  turned  him  over  as  a  hunter  examines  a  head 
of  game.  Fearing  his  anger,  I  tried  to  take  the  child 
from  him  ;  but  he  held  him  firml}',  sa3'ing :  — 

' '  No  fear  for  the  poor  innocent  thing  ;  my  heart  is  not 
bad,  and  if  I  saw  any  resemblance  to  her  I  might  not  be 
able  to  refrain  from  kissing  him,  though  I  should  hate  the 
fate  that  brought  me  to  it.  But  there  is  no  such  resem- 
blance ;  my  blood  runs  neither  the  hotter  nor  the  colder 
with  this  child  in  m}'  arms." 

"  Tiennet,  Tiennet,  answer  him,"  cried  Therence,  as  if 
waking  from  a  dream.  "  Answer  me,  too,  for  I  don't 
know  what  all  this  means,  and  it  makes  me  wild  to  think 
of  it.  There  is  no  stain  on  our  family  and  if  my  father 
believed  —  " 

Huriel  cut  her  short.  "Wait,  sister,"  he  said;  "a 
word  too  much  is  soon  said.  It  is  for  Tiennet  to  speak. 
Come,  Tiennet,  3'ou  who  are  an  honest  man,  tell  me  —  one 
—  two  —  whose  child  is  that?  " 

"  I  swear  to  God  I  don't  know,"  I  answered. 

"  If  it  were  hers,  \'ou  would  know?  " 

"  I  think  she  could  not  have  hidden  it  from  me." 

"  Did  she  ever  hide  anjthing  else?  " 

"Never." 

' '  Does  she  know  the  parents  of  the  child  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  she  will  not  even  let  me  question  her  about 
them." 

18 


274  The  Bagpipers, 

"  Does  she  denj^  the  child  is  hers?  " 

"  No  one  has  ever  dared  to  ask  her." 

''Not  even  you?"  ' 

Thereupon  I  related  in  a  few  words  what  I  knew,  and 
what  I  believed,  and  finished  b}^  saying :  "I  can  find  no 
proof  for  or  against  Brulette  ;  but,  for  the  life  of  me,  I 
cannot  doubt  her." 

"Nor  I  either!"  said  Huriel,  and  kissing  Chariot,  he 
set  him  on  the  floor. 

"Nor  I  either  !  "  exclaimed  Therence,  "  but  why  should 
this  idea  have  come  into  people's  heads?  Wh}^  into  yours, 
brother,  as  soon  as  you  looked  at  the  child?  I  did  not 
even  think  of  asking  whether  it  were  Brulette's  nephew  or 
cousin  ;  I  thought  it  must  belong  to  the  famil}^,  and  seeing 
it  in  lier  arms  made  me  wish  to  take  it  in  mine." 

"  I  see  I  must  explain,"  said  Huriel,  "  though  the 
words  will  scorch  my  mouth —  But  no,"  he  added,  ''I 
would  rather  tell  it !  it  will  be  tlie  first  and  the  last  time, 
for  my  mind  is  made  up,  whatever  the  truth  may  be,  and 
whatever  happens.  You  must  know,  Therence,  that  three 
da3's  ago,  when  we  were  parting  with  Joseph  at  Montaigu 
—  and  you  know  with  what  a  light  heart  I  left  him !  he 
was  cured,  he  gave  her  up,  he  asked  3'ou  in  marriage,  and 
Brulette  was  still  free  !  He  knew  she  was,  and  said  so,  and 
when  I  spoke  of  her  he  answered,  *  Do  what  3'OU  like,  I  no 
longer  love  her ;  3'ou  can  love  her  without  hurting  me.' 
Well,  sister,  at  the  very  moment  we  were  parting,  Joseph 
caught  me  by  the  arm  as  j^ou  were  getting  into  the  cart, 
and  said,  '  Is  it  true,  Huriel,  that  3'ou  are  going  into  our 
parts  ;  and  that  you  mean  to  court  the  girl  I  loved  so 
well?'" 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "  since  j'ou  ask  me,  that  is  my  in- 
tention ;  and  you  have  no  right  to  change  your  mind,  or  I 


The  Bagpipers.  275 

shall  think  j-on  were  tricking  us  when  you  asked  for  my 
sister  in  marriage." 

"  '  I  was  not/  "  rephed  Joseph,  "  '  but  T  should  feel  I  was 
deceiving  3'ou  now  if  I  allowed  you  to  leave  without  telling 
3'ou  a  miserable  thing.  God  is  my  witness  that  these 
words  should  never  have  left  my  lips  against  a  person 
whose  father  brought  me  up,  if  3'ou  were  not  on  the  point 
of  taking  a  false  step.  But  3'our  father  has  also  brought 
me  up,  educating  my  mind  just  as  the  other  fed  and 
clothed  my  bod}',  and  I  am  forced  to  tell  3'ou  the  truth. 
Huriel,  at  the  time  when  I  left  Brulette  with  my  heart  full 
of  love,  she  had  already,  without  my  knowledge,  loved  an- 
other man,  and  to-day  there  is  a  living  proof  of  it  which 
she  does  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  hide.  Now,  then, 
do  as  you  please  ;  I  shall  think  no  more  about  her.'  So 
sa3'ing,  Joseph  turned  his  back  on  me  and  went  into  the 
woods.  He  looked  so  wild  that  I,  with  my  heart  full  of 
faith  and  love,  accused  him  in  my  thoughts  of  madness 
and  wicked  anger.  You  remember,  sister,  that  you 
thought  me  ill  as  we  drove  that  day  to  the  village  of 
Huriel.  When  we  got  there  3'Ou  found  two  letters  from 
Brulette,  and  I  found  three  from  Tiennet,  which  our 
friends  there  had  neglected  to  send  on  in  spite  of  their 
promises.  Those  letters  were  so  simple,  so  affectionate, 
and  showed  such  truth  in  ever}'  word,  that  I  said  to  m}^- 
self,  '  I  will  go  !  '  and  Joseph's  words  went  out  of  my  mind 
like  a  bad  dream.  I  was  ashamed  for  him,  and  would  not 
remember  them.  And  then,  just  now,  when  I  saw  Bru- 
lette, with  that  look  of  hers,  so  gentle,  so  modest,  that 
charmed  me  so  in  the  old  da3-s,  I  swear  to  God  I  had 
forgotten  all  as  though  it  had  never  happened.  The  sight 
of  the  child  killed  me  !  And  that  was  wh}^  I  was  resolved 
to  know  if  Brulette  were  free  to  love  me.     She  is  ;  because 


276  The  Bagpipers, 

she  has  promised  to  expose  herself  for  my  sake  to  the 
criticisms  and  neglect  of  others.  Well,  as  she  is  now  tied 
to  no  one  —  even  if  there  be  a  fault  in  her  —  whether  I 
believe  it  a  little  or  not  at  all  —  wdiether  she  confesses  or 
explains  it  —  it  is  all  one  ;   I  love  her  !  " 

"Would  you  love  a  degraded  girl?"  cried  Therence. 
"  No,  no,  think  of  your  father,  of  your  sister!  Don't  go 
to  this  wedding  ;  wait  till  we  know  the  truth.  I  don't  dis- 
trust Brulette,  I  don't  believe  in  Joseph.  I  am  sure  that 
Brulette  is  spotless,  but  she  must  sa}^  so ;  she  must  do 
more,  she  must  prove  it^  Go  and  fetch  her,  Tiennet. 
Let  her  explain  this  thing  at  once,  before  m}^  brother 
takes  one  of  those  steps  from  which  an  honest  man  can- 
not back  down." 

"You  shall  not  go,  Tiennet,"  said  Huriel,  "I  for- 
bid 3'ou.  If,  as  I  believe,  Brulette  is  as  innocent  as  my 
sister  Therence,  she  shall  not  be  subjected  to  the  insult 
of  that  question  before  I  have  openly  pledged  m}'  word 
to  her." 

"  Think  it  over,  brother,"  said  Therence,  again  urging 
him. 

"  Sister,"  said  Huriel,  "you  forget  one  thing;  if  Bru- 
lette has  done  a  wrong  thing,  I  have  committed  a  crime ; 
if  love  betraj'ed  her  into  bringing  a  child  into  the  world, 
anger  betra3^ed  me  into  sending  a  man  out  of  it."  Then 
as  Therence  still  remonstrated,  he  added,  kissing  her  and 
pushing  her  aside,  "  Enough,  enough  ;  I  need  pardon  be- 
fore I  judge  of  others;  did  I  not  kill  a  man?" 

So  saying  he  rushed  off  without  waiting  for  me,  and  I 
saw  him  running  towards  the  bride's  house,  where  the 
smoke  of  the  chimney  and  the  uproar  within  bespoke  the 
wedding  feast. 

"Ah!"  said  Therence,  following  him  with  her  eyes, 


Tlie  Bagpipers,  277 

"  My   poor   brother  cannot    forget    his    misfortune,   and 
perhaps  he  will  never  be  comforted." 

"  He  will  be  comforted,  Thcrence,"  I  replied,  "  when 
he  sees  how  the  girl  he  loves  loves  him ;  I  '11  answer  for 
her  loving  him,  and  in  times  past,  too." 

"I  think  so  too,  Tiennet ;  but  suppose  she  were 
unworth}"  of  him  ?  " 

"  My  beautiful  Therence,  are  j'ou  so  stern  that  3'ou 
would  think  it  a  mortal  sin  if  a  misfortune  happened  to  a 
mere  child,  —  and,  who  knows?  perhaps  ignorantly  or  by 
force?" 

"  It  is  not  the  misfortune  or  the  fault  I  should  blame  so 
much  as  the  lies  told  and  acted,  and  the  behavior  that 
followed.  If  at  the  first  3'our  cousin  had  said  openh'  to 
m}'  brother,  '  Do  not  court  me,  for  I  have  been  be- 
tra^'cd,'  I  could  understand  that  he  might  have  forgiven 
all  to  such  an  honest  confession.  But  to  let  him  court 
her  and  admire  her  so  much  without  saying  a  word ! 
Come,  Tiennet,  tell  me,  do  yoxx  really  know  nothing  about 
it?  Can't  3-ou  at  least  guess  or  imagine  something  to  set 
m}'  mind  at  ease  ?  I  do  so  love  Brulette  that  I  have  n't 
the  courage  to  condemn  her.  And  yet,  what  will  my 
father  sa}'  if  he  thinks  I  might  have  saved  Iluriel  from 
cuch  a  danger?" 

"  Therence,  I  know  nothing  and  can  tell  you  nothing, 
except  that  now,  less  than  ever,  do  I  doubt  Brulette  ;  for, 
if  3-0U  wish  me  to  tell  you  the  only  person  whom  I  could 
possibly  suspect  of  abusing  her,  and  on  whom  public  sus- 
picion fell  with  some  slight  appearance  of  reason,  I  must 
honestly  say  it  was  Joseph,  who  now  seems  to  me,  after 
what  3-our  brother  told  us,  to  be  as  white  as  the  driven 
snow.  Now  there  is  but  one  other  person  who,  to  my 
knowledge,  was,  I  will  not  say  capable,  but  in  a  position 


278  The  Bagpipers. 

to  use  his  friendship  for  Brnlette  to  lead  her  wrong.  And 
that  is  I.  Do  you  believe  I  did,  Therence  ?  Look  me  in 
the  ej^es  before  3'ou  answer.  No  one  has  accused  me  of 
it,  that  I  know  of,  but  I  might  be  the  sinner  all  the  same, 
and  you  don't  know  me  well  enough  yet  to  be  sure  of  m}'- 
honesty  and  good  faith.  That  is  wh^'  I  say  to  you,  look 
in  ni}^  face  and  see  if  falsehood  and  cowardice  are  at 
home  there." 

Therence  did  as  1  told  her,  and  looked  at  me,  without 
showing  the  least  embarrassment  \  then  she  said :  — 

"  No,  Tiennet,  it  is  not  in  3"ou  to  lie  like  that.  If  you 
are  satisfied  about  Brulette,  I  will  be  too.  Come,  my  lad, 
now  go  off  to  the  dance  ;  I  don't  want  you  here  any 
longer." 

"  Yes,  3'ou  do,"  I  said;  "that  child  is  going  to  plague 
3'OU.  He  is  not  amiable  with  persons  he  does  not  know, 
and  I  would  like  either  to  carry  him  off  or  help  you  to 
take  care  of  him." 

"  Not  amiable,  is  n't  he?"  said  Therence,  taking  him  on 
her  knee.  "Bah!  what  difficult}^  is  therein  managing  a 
little  monkey  like  that?  I  never  tried,  but  I  don't  believe 
there  is  much  art  in  it.  Come,  my  3'oung  man,  what  do 
3'Ou  want?     Don't  3'ou  want  something  to  eat?" 

"  No,"  said  Chariot,  who  was  sulky  without  daring  to 
show  it. 

"  Well,  just  as  you  like.  When  you  want  3'our  broth 
3'ou  can  ask  for  it.  I  '11  give  you  all  3'ou  want,  and  even 
play  with  you,  if  you  get  tired.  Sa3',  do  you  want  me  to 
play  with  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Chariot,  frowning  fiei'cel3'." 

"  Very  good  ;  then  pla3^  alone,"  said  Therence,  quietl3', 
setting  him  on  the  floor.  "  I  am  going  into  the  court- 
\"ard  to  see  the  prett3'  little  black  horse." 


The  Bagpipers.  279 

She  moved  to  go;  Chariot  wept;  Th^rence  pretended 
not  to  hear  him  till  he  came  to  her.  "  Dear  me  !  what 's 
the  matter?"  she  said,  as  if  surprised  ;  "make  haste  and 
tell  me,  for  I  am  going,  —  I  can't  wait." 

"  I  want  to  see  the  pretty  little  black  horse,"  sobbed 
Chariot. 

''Then  come  along;  but  stop  crj'ing,  for  he  ruts  away 
when  he  hears  children  cry." 

Chariot  choked  down  his  sobs,  and  went  off  to  stroke 
and  admire  the  clairin. 

"  Should  you  like  to  get  on  him?"  asked  Therence. 

*'No,  I'm  afraid." 

"  I  '11  hold  you." 

"  No,  I  'm  afraid." 

"  Very  good,  then  don't  get  on." 

In  a  minute  more  he  wanted  to. 

"  No,"  said  Therence,  '^  you  '11  be  afraid." 

"  No." 

"Yes,  you  will." 

"No,  no!"  said  Chariot. 

She  put  him  on  the  horse  and  led  it  along,  holding  the 
child  very  carefully.  After  watching  them  a  little  while, 
I  saw  that  Chariot's  whims  could  not  hold  out  against 
so  quiet  a  will  as  Therence's.  She  had  discovered  the 
wa}"  to  manage  a  troublesome  child  at  her  first  attempt, 
though  it  had  taken  Brulette  a  j'ear  of  patience  and  weari- 
ness ;  but  it  really  seemed  as  if  the  good  God  had  made 
Therence  a  mother  without  an  apprenticeship.  She  had 
guessed  the  astuteness  and  decision  needed,  and  practised 
them  without  worrying  herself,  or  feeling  surprised  or 
impatient  at  anything. 

Chariot,  who  had  thought  himself  master  of  everybody, 
was  much  astonished  to  find  that  with  her  he  was  only 


280  The  Bagpipers. 

master  of  the  power  to  sulk,  and  as  she  did  not  trouble 
herself  about  that,  he  soon  saw  it  was  trouble  wasted. 
At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  became  quite  pleasant,  ask- 
ing for  what  he  wanted,  and  making  haste  to  accept  whatever 
was  offered  to  him.  Therence  gave  him  something  to  eat ; 
and  I  admired  how,  out  of  her  own  judgment,  she  knew 
just  what  quantity  to  give  him,  not  too  much  nor  yet  too 
little,  and  how  to  keep  him  occupied  beside  her  while 
she  was  occupied  in  her  own  affairs,  talking  with  him 
as  if  he  were  a  reasonable  being,  and  treating  the  imp 
with  such  confidence  that,  without  seeming  to  question 
him,  he  soon  ran  over  all  his  little  tales,  which  he  usually 
required  much  begging  to  do  when  others  tried  to  make 
him.  He  even  took  such  pleasure  in  her  and  was  so 
proud  of  knowing  how  to  converse  that  he  got  impatient 
at  not  knowing  the  words  he  wanted,  and  so  invented 
some  to  express  his  meaning,  —  and  they  were  not  at 
all  sill}^  or  meaningless  either. 

"What  are  3'ou  doing  here,  Tiennet?"  she  said  to  me 
suddenl}^  as  if  to  let  me  know  she  thought  I  had  been 
there  long  enough. 

As  I  had  alread}^  invented  about  fifty  little  reasons  for 
staying  on,  her  question  took  me  short,  and  I  could  think 
of  nothing  to  say  except  that  I  was  occupied  in  looking 
at  her.     "  Does  that  amuse  .you?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  answered  ;  "•  3'ou  might  as  well  ask 
the  wheat  if  it  likes  to  grow  in  the  sunshine." 

"  Oh,  oh!  so  3^ou  are  getting  mischievous  and  turning 
compliments,  are  3'ou?  but  please  remember  it  is  lost 
time  with  me,  for  I  know  nothing  about  them  and  can't 
make  an}^  reply." 

"I  don't  know  an3^thing  about  them  either,  Therence. 
All  that  I  meant  to  say  was  that  to  my  mind  there  is 


The  Bagpipers.  281 

nothing  so  beautiful  and  saintly  as  a  young  girl  taking 
pleasure  in  a  child's  prattle." 

"  Is  not  that  natural?"  said  Therence.  "  It  seems  to 
me  that  I  get  to  the  truth  of  the  things  of  the  good  God 
when  I  look  at  that  little  fellow  and  talk  with  him.  I  feel 
that  I  do  not  live,  usuall}^,  as  a  woman  ought  to  like  to 
live  ;  but  I  did  not  choose  my  own  lot,  and  the  wandering 
life  I  lead  is  my  dut}',  because  I  am  the  support  and  hap- 
piness of  my  dear  father.  Therefore  I  never  complain, 
and  never  wish  for  a  life  which  would  not  be  his  ;  only  I 
can  understand  the  happiness  of  others ;  for  instance, 
that  of  Brulette  with  her  Chariot,  whether  he  be  her  own 
or  just  the  good  God's,  would  be  ver}'  sweet  to  me.  I 
liave  not  often  had  a  chance  to  enjo}'  such  amusement,  so 
I  take  it  when  I  find  it.  Yes,  I  like  the  compan}'  of  this 
little  man,  and  I  had  no  idea  he  was  so  clever  and  knew 
so  much." 

"  And  yet,  dear.  Chariot  is  only  tolerable  because 
Brulette  has  taken  such  pains  with  him ;  he  will  have  to 
Improve  very  much  before  he  is  as  amiable  as  the  children 
God  sends  good  into  the  world." 

"You  surprise  me,"  said  Therence.  "If  there  are 
nicer  children  than  he  it  must  be  very  pleasant  to  live 
with  them.  But  now,  that's  enough,  Tiennet.  Go  away  ; 
or  they  will  send  after  you,  and  then  they  will  ask  me  to 
go  too ;  and  that  would,  I  confess,  annoy  me,  for  I  am 
tired,  and  would  much  rather  stay  quietly  here  with  the 
little  one." 

I  had  to  obey ;  and  I  departed  with  my  heart  full,  and 
tops3'-turvy  with  ideas  that  suddenl}"  came  into  my  head 
about  that  girl. 


282  The  Bagpipers. 


TWENTY-FOURTH  EVENING. 

It  was  not  onlj'  Therence's  extreme  beauty  which  filled 
ni}'  thoughts,  but  a  something,  I  don't  know  what,  which 
made  her  seem  to  be  above  all  others.  I  was  surprised 
that  I  had  loved  Brulette,  who  was  so  unlike  her,  and  I 
kept  asking  myself  if  the  one  were  too  frank,  or  the  other 
too  coy.  I  thought  Brulette  the  most  amiable ;  for  she 
had  always  something  kind  to  say  to  her  friends,  and  she 
knew  how  to  keep  them  about  her  with  all  sorts  of  little 
orders  ;  which  flatter  young  fellows,  for  they  like  to  fancy 
themselves  of  use.  On  the  other  hand,  Therence  showed 
you  frankly  that  she  did  not  want  you,  and  even  seemed 
surprised  and  annoyed  if  you  paid  her  any  attention.  Both 
knew  their  own  value,  however  ;  but  whereas  Brulette  took 
the  trouble  to  make  you  feel  it,  the  other  seemed  onl}^  to 
wish  for  the  same  sort  of  regard  as  that  she  gave  3'ou.  I 
don't  know  how  it  was  that  the  spice  of  pride  hidden  under 
all  this  seemed  to  me  an  allurement  which  brought  tempta- 
tion as  well  as  fear. 

I  found  the  dance  at  its  height,  and  Brulette  was  skim- 
ming like  a  butterfl}'  in  HurieFs  arms.  Such  ardor  was 
in  their  faces,  she  was  so  intoxicated  within  and  he  with- 
out, that  it  reallj'  seemed  as  if  neither  could  hear  or  see 
anything  about  them.  The  music  carried  them  awa}',  and 
I  do  believe  that  their  feet  did  not  touch  the  earth  and 
that  their  souls  were  dancing  in  paradise.  Now,  among 
those  who  lead  a  reel,  there  are  seldom  any  who  have 
neither  love  nor  some  other  wild  fancy  in  their  heads,  and 


The  Bagp'qyers.  283 

therefore  no  attention  was  paid  to  this  pair  ;  and  there  was 
so  much  wine,  noise,  dust,  music,  and  Hveh'  talk  in  the 
heated  air  of  the  wedding  feast  that  night  came  on  before 
any  one  took  much  notice  of  the  actions  of  others. 

Brulette  mere!}'  asked  me  about  Chariot,  and  why  The- 
rence  did  not  come  and  dance  ;  m}'  answers  satisfied  her, 
and  Huriel  did  not  give  her  time  to  say  much  about  the 
boy. 

I  did  not  feel  inclined  to  dance,  for  I  could  not  see  any 
prettj^  girls  ;  I  believe  there  were  plent}',  but  not  one  that 
compared  with  Thcrence  ;  and  I  could  not  get  Tlierence 
out  of  my  head.  I  stood  in  a  corner  to  watch  her  brother, 
so  as  to  have  something  to  tell  her  if  she  questioned  me. 
[Turiel  had  so  completely'  forgotten  his  troubles  that  he 
was  all  youth  and  happiness.  He  was  well-mated  with 
Brulette,  for  he  loved  pleasure  and  racket  as  much  as  she 
ilid  when  he  was  in  it,  and  he  carried  the  da}'  against  the 
other  lads,  for  he  never  got  tired  of  dancing.  All  the 
world  knows,  for  it  is  so  in  all  lands,  that  women  can 
floor  the  men  at  a  reel,  and  can  keep  themselves  going 
while  we  poor  fellows  are  djing  of  heat  and  thirst.  Huriel 
never  cared  for  eating  or  drinking,  and  3'ou  would  reall}^ 
have  thought  he  had  sworn  to  surfeit  Brulette  with  her 
choice  amusement ;  but  I  could  see  beneath  the  surface 
that  he  was  doing  it  for  his  own  pleasure,  and  that  he  would 
gladly  have  gone  round  the  world  on  one  foot  could  he  have 
kept  his  airy  partner  in  his  arms. 

At  last,  however,  some  of  the  3'ouths,  beginning  to  get 
annoyed  that  Brulette  refused  them,  took  notice  that  a 
stranger  had  cut  them  out,  and  talk  began  about  it  round 
the  tables.  I  must  tell  3'ou  that  Brulette,  not  expecting 
much  amusement,  and  rather  inclined  to  despise  the  young 
men  of  that  neighborhood  on  account  of  their  ill-natured 


284  The  Bagpipers, 

speeches,  was  not  dressed  with  her  usual  daintiness.  She 
looked  more  like  a  little  nun  than  the  queen  of  our  parts ; 
and  as  others  had  come  to  the  wedding  in  gala  costumes, 
she  did  not  produce  the  great  effect  of  former  days.  Still, 
she  was  so  animated  in  dancing  that  the  compau}^  were 
forced  to  admit  that  no  one  compared  with  her ;  and  as 
those  who  did  not  know  her  questioned  those  who  did,  a 
great  deal  of  evil  as  well  as  good  was  talked  around  me. 

I  listened,  wishing  to  make  sure  of  what  was  being  said, 
and  not  revealing  that  she  was  m}'  relation.  I  heard  the 
whole  storj^  of  the  monk  and  the  child,  and  of  Joseph  and 
the  Bourbonnais  ;  it  was  also  told  that  Joseph  was  proba- 
bh'  not  the  father  of  the  child,  but  more  likely  that  tall 
fellow,  who  s'^  railed  so  sure  of  his  rights  that  no  one  else 
was  allowed  tc^  approach  her. 

"  Well,"  said  one,  "  if  it  was  he  and  he  comes  to  make 
reparation,  better  late  than  never." 

"Faith!"  cried  another,  "she  didn't  choose  badl3\ 
He  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and  seems  good  company." 

"  After  all,"  said  a  third,  "  they  make  a  fine  couple, 
and  when  the  priest  has  said  his  say,  their  home  will  be  as 
good  as  an}'." 

All  of  which  let  me  know  that  a  woman  is  never  lost 
if  she  has  good  protection  ;  but  it  must  be  the  honest  and 
lasting  protection  of  one  man,  not  the  support  of  hundreds, 
for  the  more  who  meddle  in  the  matter,  the  more  there  are 
to  pull  her  down. 

Just  then  my  aunt  took  Huriel  apart,  and  bringing  him 
close  into  ray  neighborhood  said  to  him,  "  I  want  3'ou  to 
drink  a  glass  of  wine  to  my  health,  for  it  does  my  heart 
good  to  see  your  fine  dancing,  which  stirred  up  the  com- 
pany and  made  the  wedding  go  oflT  so  well." 

Huriel  seemed  not  to  like  to  leave  Brulette  even  for  a 


The  Bagpipers,  285 

moment,  but  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  very  peremp- 
tory, and  he  could  not  help  showing  her  civility.  They 
sat  down  at  an  empty  table,  with  a  candle  between  them, 
face  to  face.  M}'  aunt  Marghitonne  was,  as  I  told  3'ou, 
a  very  small  woman  who  had  never  been  a  tool.  She  had 
the  drollest  little  face  jou  ever  saw,  very  fair  and  very 
rosy,  though  she  was  in  the  fifties  and  had  brought  four- 
teen children  into  the  world.  I  have  never  seen  such  a 
long  nose  as  hers,  with  A'ery  small  eyes  sunken  each  side 
of  it,  sharp  as  gimlets,  and  so  bright  and  mischievous 
that  one  could  n't  look  mto  them  without  wishino;  to  lauu"h 
and  chatter. 

I  saw,  however,  that  Huriel  was  on  his  guard  and  was 
cautious  about  the  wine  she  poured  oa'  for  him.  He 
seemed  to  feel  there  was  something  quizzit  il  and  inquisi- 
tive about  her,  and  without  knowing  wh}',  he  put  himself 
on  the  defence.  My  aunt,  who  since  early  morning  had 
not  stopped  talking  and  moving  about,  had  a  very  prettv 
taste  for  good  wine,  and  had  scarcely  drunk  a  glass  or 
two  when  the  end  of  her  long  nose  grew  as  red  as  a  haw, 
and  her  broad  mouth,  with  its  rows  of  narrow  w^hite  teeth 
(enough  to  furnish  three  ordinary  mouths),  began  to  smile 
from  ear  to  ear.  However,  ^he  was  not  at  all  upset  as  to 
judgment,  for  no  woman  could  be  gay  without  freedom 
and  mischievous  without  spite  better  than  she. 

"  Well,  now,  my  lad,"  she  said,  after  some  general  talk 
which  served  only  to  lead  up'  to  her  object,  "here  you 
are,  for  good  and  all,  pledged  to  our  Brulette.  You  can't 
go  back  now,  for  what  3'ou  wished  has  happened ;  every- 
body is  talking,  and  if  3-ou  could  hear,  as  I  do,  what  is 
being  said  on  all  sides  you  would  find  that  they  have 
saddled  you  with  the  past  as  well  as  the  future  of  my 
pretty'  niece." 


286  Tlie  Bagpipers. 

I  saw  that  the  words  drove  a  knife  into  Hnriel's  heart, 
and  knocked  him  from  the  stars  into  the  brambles ; 
but  he  put  a  good  face  upon  the  matter  and  answered, 
kiugliing:  "  I  might  wish,  my  good  lady,  to  have  had  her 
past,  for  everything  about  her  is  beautiful  and  good  ;  but 
as  I  can  have  her  future  only  I  expect  to  share  it  with  the 
good  God." 

"And  right  3'ou  are,"  returned  my  aunt,  laughing  still 
and  looking  closely  at  him  with  her  little  green  e3'es,  which 
were  very  near-sighted,  so  that  she  seemed  about  to  prick 
his  forehead  with  the  sharp  end  of  her  nose.  "When 
people  love  the}^  sliould  love  right  through,  and  not  be 
repelled  by  an3'thing." 

"That  is  m^'  intention,"  said  Iluriel,  in  a  curt  tone, 
which  did  not  disconcert  my  aunt. 

''And  that's  all  the  more  to  your  credit,"  she  contin- 
ued, "  because  poor  Brulette  has  more  virtue  than  prop- 
ert}'.  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  3^ou  could  put  her 
dowr3'"  into  that  glass,  and  there  are  no  louis  d'or  to  her 
account." 

"  Well,  so  much  the  better,"  said  Huriel,  "  the  reckon- 
ing is  the  sooner  made ;  I  don't  like  to  spend  m3'  time 
doing  sums." 

"And  besides,"  said  m3'  aunt,  "a  child  already-  weaned 
Is  less  trouble  in  a  household,  especiall3'  if  the  father  does 
his  dut3',  as  I  '11  warrant  he  will  in  this  case." 

Poor  Huriel  went  hot  and  cold  ;  but  thinking  it  was 
meant  as  a  test,  he  stood  it  well,  and  answered :  — 

"I'll  warrant,  too,  that  the  father  will  do  his  duty; 
for  there  will  be  no  other  father  than  I  for  all  the  children 
born  or  to  be  born." 

"Oh!  as  for  that!"  she  returned,  "  3^ou  won't  be  the 
master,  I  give  3'ou  my  word." 


The  Baginpers.  287 

"I  hope  I  shall,"  he  said,  clenching  his  glass  as  though 
he  would  crush  it  in  his  hand.  "  He  who  abandons  his 
propert}-  has  no  right  to  filch  it  back  ;  and  I  am  too  faith- 
ful a  guardian  to  allow  marauders  about." 

My  aunt  stretclied  out  her  slvinny  little  hand  and  passed 
it  over  Huriel's  forehead.  She  felt  the  sweat,  though  he 
was  very  pale,  and  then,  suddenly  changing  her  look  of 
elfish  mischief  to  one  that  expressed  the  goodness  and 
kindness  of  her  heart,  she  said:  "My  lad,  put  your 
elbows  on  the  table  and  bring  your  face  quite  close  to 
my  mouth ;  I  want  to  give  you  a  good  kiss  upon  your 
cheek." 

Huriel,  surprised  at  her  softened  manner,  obeyed  her 
fancy.  She  raised  his  thick  hair  and  saw  Brulette's  token, 
which  he  still  wore  and  which  she  probably  recognized. 
Then,  bringino;  her  bis:  mouth  close  to  his  ear  as  if  she 
meant  to  bite  him,  she  whispered  three  or  four  words  into 
its  orifice,  but  so  low  that  I  could  n't  catch  a  sound. 
Then  she  added  out  loud,  pinching  his  ear :  — 

"  Here's  a  faithful  ear !  but  you  must  admit,  it  is  well- 
rewarded." 

Huriel  made  but  one  bound  right  over  the  ta])le,  knock- 
ing over  the  glasses  and  candle  before  I  had  time  to  catch 
them ;  in  a  second  he  was  sitting  b}'  m}^  little  aunt  and 
kissing  her  as  if  she  had  been  the  mother  that  bore  him  ; 
in  short,  he  behaved  like  a  crazy  man,  shouting,  and 
singing,  and  waving  his  glass,  while  my  aunt,  laughing 
like  a  jack-daw,  cried  as  she  clinked  her  glass  to  his  :  — 

"To  the  health  of  the  father  of  your  child!  All  of 
which  proves,"  she  said,  turning  to  me,  "  that  the  clever- 
est folk  are  often  those  who  are  thought  the  greatest 
fools ;  just  as  the  greatest  fools  are  those  who  have 
thought  themselves  so  clever.     You  can  say  that  too,  my 


288  The  Bagpipers, 

Tiennet, — 3'ou  with  your  honest  heart  and  your  faithful 
cousinship ;  I  know  that  you  behaved  to  Brulette  as  if 
3'ou  had  been  her  brother.  You  deserve  to  be  rewarded, 
and  I  reh'  on  the  good  God  to  see  tliat  you  get  your  dues ; 
some  day  or  other  he  will  give  you,  too,  your  perfect 
contentment." 

Thereupon  she  went  off,  and  Huriel,  clasping  me  in  his 
arms,  cried  out:  "Your  aunt  is  right;  she  is  the  best  of 
women.  You  are  not  in  the  secret,  but  that 's  no  matter. 
You  are  only  the  better  friend  for  it.  Give  me  3'our 
word,  Tiennet,  that  you  will  come  and  work  here  all 
summer  with  us  ;  for  I  have  got  an  idea  about  3'ou,  and 
please  God  to  help  me,  you  shall  thank  me  for  it  fine  and 
good." 

"  If  I  understand  what  3'ou  mean,"  I  replied,  "  3'ou 
have  just  been  drinking  your  wine  pure,  and  my  aunt  has 
taken  the  fly  out  of  your  cup  ;  but  any  idea  of  3'ours  about 
me  seems  more  difficult  to  cany  out." 

"  Friend  Tiennet,  happiness  can  be  earned;  and  if  you 
have  no  ideas  contrar3'  to  mine  —  " 

"I  am  afraid  they  are  onl3' too  like;  but  ideas  won't 
suffice." 

"Of  course  not;  but  nothing  venture  nothing  have. 
Are  3'ou  such  a  Berrichon  that  3^ou  dare  not  tempt  fate  ?  " 

"  You  set  me  too  good  an  example  to  let  me  be  a 
coward,"  I  answered,  "but  do  you  think  —  " 

Brulette  here  came  up  and  interrupted  us,  and  we  saw 
by  her  manner  that  she  had  no  suspicion  of  what  had 
occurred. 

"  Sit  here,"  said  Huriel,  drawing  her  to  his  knee,  as  we 
do  in  our  parts  without  an3'  thought  of  harm,  "  and  tell 
me,  m3'  dear  love,  if  you  have  no  wish  to  dance  with  some 
one  besides  me  ?    You  gave  me  3'our  word  and  you  have 


The  Bagpipers,  289 

k?pt  it.  That  was  all  I  needed  to  take  a  bitterness  out 
of  my  heart ;  but  if  3'ou  think  people  will  talk  in  a  wa}'  to 
liurt  3'our  feelings,  1  will  submit  to  your  pleasure  and  not 
dance  with  you  again  till  3'ou  command  me." 

"Is  it  because  3'ou  are  tired  of  ni}'  company,  Maitre 
Huriel,"  replied  Brulette,  "and  that  you  want  to  make 
acquaintance  with  tlie  other  girls  at  the  wedding?" 

"Oh!  if  you  take  it  that  way,"  cried  Huriel,  beside 
himself  with  jo}',  "  so  much  the  better  !  I  don't  even  know 
if  there  are  other  girls  here  besides  you,  and  I  don't  want 
to  know." 

Then  he  offered  her  his  glass,  begging  her  to  touch  it 
with  her  lips  and  then  drinking  its  contents  with  a  full 
heart ;  after  which  he  dashed  it  to  pieces,  so  that  no  one 
should  use  it  again,  and  carried  off  his  betrotlied,  leaving 
me  to  think  over  the  matter  he  had  suggested,  about  which 
I  felt  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  how. 

I  had  not  yet  felt  myself  all  over  about  it ;  and  it  had 
never  seemed  to  me  that  my  nature  was  ardent  enough 
to  fall  in  love  lighth',  especiall}^  with  so  grave  a  girl  as 
Therence.  I  had  escaped  all  annoyance  at  not  being 
able  to  please  Brulette,  thanks  to  m}'  lively  nature,  which 
was  always  willing  to  be  diverted ;  but  somehow,  I  could 
not  think  of  Therence  without  a  sort  of  trembling  in  the 
marrow  of  my  bones,  as  if  I  had  been  asked  to  make  a 
sea-voyage,  —  I,  who  had  never  set  foot  on  a  river  boat ! 

"  Can  it  be,"  thought  I,  "  that  I  have  fallen  in  love  to- 
da}' without  knowing  it?  Perhaps  I  ought  to  believe  it, 
for  here  is  Huriel  urging  me  on,  and  his  e3'e  must  have 
seen  it  in  my  face.  Still  I  am  not  certain,  because  I  feel 
half-suffocated,  and  love  certainly  ought  to  be  a  livelier 
thing  than  that." 

Thinking  over  all  this,  I  reached,  I  couldn't  tell  you 

19 


290  The  Bagpipers. 

how,  the  ruined  castle.  That  old  heap  of  stones  was 
sleeping  in  the  moonlight  as  mute  as  those  who  built  it ; 
but  a  tiny  light,  coming  from  the  room  which  Therence 
occupied  on  the  courtj^ard,  showed  that  the  dead  were  not 
the  onl}'  guardians  of  the  building.  I  went  softly  to  the 
window,  which  had  neither  glass  nor  woodwork,  and  look- 
ing through  the  leaves  that  shaded  it,  I  saw  the  girl  of 
the  woods  on  her  knees  saving  her  prayers  beside  the 
bed,  where  Chariot  was  sleeping  soundl}'  with  his  eyes 
tightly  closed. 

I  might  live  a  thousand  3'ears  and  I  should  never  forget 
her  face  as  it  was  at  that  moment.  It  was  that  of  a  saint ; 
as  peaceful  as  those  they  carve  in  stone  for  the  churches. 
I  had  just  seen  Brulette,  radiant  as  the  summer  sun,  in  the 
jo}^  of  lier  love  and  the  whirl  of  the  dance  ;  and  here  was 
Therence,  alone,  content,  and  white  as  the  moonlight  of 
the  springtide  sky.  Afar  I  heard  the  wedding  music  ;  but 
that  said  nothing  to  the  ear  of  the  woodland  girl ;  I  think 
she  was  listening  to  the  nightingale  as  it  sang  its  tender 
canticle  in  the  neighboring  covert. 

I  don't  know  what  took  place  within  me  ;  but,  all  of  a 
sudden,  I  thought  of  God,  —  a  thought  that  did  not  often 
come  to  me  in  those  da3's  of  youth  and  carelessness  ;  but 
now  it  bent  my  knees,  as  b}^  some  secret  order,  and  filled 
my  eyes  with  tears  which  fell  like  rain,  as  though  a  great 
cloud  had  burst  within  my  head. 

Do  not  ask  me  what  pra^'er  I  made  to  the  good  angels 
of  the  sky.  I  know  it  not  mj'self.  Certainh'  I  did  noi; 
dare  to  ask  of  God  to  give  me  Therence,  but  I  think  I 
prayed  him  to  make  me  worthier  of  so  great  an  honor. 

When  I  rose  from  the  ground  I  saw  that  Therence  had 
finished  her  pra3^er  and  was  preparing  for  the  night.  She 
had  taken  off  her  cap,  and  I  noticed  that  her  black  hair 


The  Bagpipers.  291 

fell  in  coils  to  her  feet ;  but  before  she  had  taken  the  first 
pin  from  her  garments,  believe  me  if  you  will,  I  had  fled 
as  though  I  feared  to  be  guilty  of  sacrilege.  And  yet  I 
was  no  fool  either,  and  not  at  all  in  the  habit  of  making 
faces  at  the  devil.  But  Therence  filled  my  soul  Avith  re- 
spect as  though  she  were  cousin  of  the  Holy  Virgin. 

As  I  left  the  old  castle,  a  man,  whom  I  had  not  seen  in 
the  shadow  of  the  great  portal,  surprised  me  by  saying : 

"  Hey,  friend  !  tell  me  if  this  is,  as  I  think  it  is,  the  old 
castle  of  Chassin  ?  " 

•'  The  Head- Woodsman  !  "  T  cried,  recognizing  the 
voice.  And  I  kissed  him  with  such  ardor  that  he  was 
quite  astonished,  for,  naturally,  he  did  not  remember  me 
as  I  did  him.  But  when  he  did  recollect  me  he  was  very 
friendlv  and  said  :  — 

"  Tell  me  quick,  m}'  boy,  if  3'ou  have  seen  my  children, 
or  if  you  know  whether  the}'  are  here." 

*'  They  came  this  morning,"  I  said,  "  and  so  did  I  and 
my  cousin  Brulette.  Your  daughter  Therence  is  in  there, 
ver}'  quiet  and  tranquil,  and  my  cousin  is  close  b}',  at  a 
wedding  with  your  dear  good  son  Huriel." 

''Thank  God,  I  am  not  too  late  !  "  said  Pere  Bastien. 
Joseph  has  gone  on  to  Nohant  expecting  to  find  them 
there  together." 

"Joseph!  Did  he  come  with  3'ou?  They  did  not 
expect  3'Ou  for  five  or  six  days,  and  Huriel  told  us  — " 

"Just  see  how  matters  turn  out  in  this  world,"  said 
Pere  Bastien,  drawing  me  out  on  the  road  so  as  not  to 
be  overheard.  "  Of  all  the  things  that  are  blown  about 
by  the  wind,  the  brains  of  lovers  are  the  lightest !  Did 
Huriel  tell  3'ou  all  that  relates  to  Joseph  ?  " 
"Yes,  everything." 
"When  Joseph  saw  Therence  and  Huriel  starting  for 


292  The  Bagpipers. 

these   parts,    he   whispered    something   in    Huriel's    ear. 
Do  you  know  what  he  told  him?" 

''  Yes,  I  know,  Pere  Bastien,  but  —  " 

"  Hush  !  for  I  know,  too.  Seeing  that  m}'  son  changed 
color,  and  that  Joseph  rushed  into  the  woods  in  a  singular 
wa}',  I  followed  him  and  ordered  him  to  tell  me  what 
secret  he  had  just  told  Huriel.  '  Master,'  he  replied,  *I 
don't  know  if  I  have  done  well  or  ill ;  but  I  felt  myself 
obliged  to  do  it ;  this  is  what  it  is,  for  I  am  also  bound 
to  tell  you.'  Thereupon  he  told  me  how  he  had  received 
a  letter  from  friends  telling  him  that  Brulette  was  bringing 
up  a  child  that  could  only  be  her  own.  After  telling  me 
all  this,  with  much  suffering  and  anger,  he  begged  me  to 
follow  Huriel  and  prevent  him  from  committing  a  great 
foil}'  and  swallowing  a  bitter  shame.  When  I  questioned 
him  as  to  the  age  of  the  child  and  he  had  read  me  the 
letter  he  carried  with  him,  as  though  it  were  a  remedj^  for 
his  wounded  love,  I  did  not  feel  at  all  sure  that  it  was 
not  written  to  plague  him,  —  more  especially  as  the  Carnat 
lad,  who  wrote  the  letter  (in  answer  to  a  proposal  of 
Joseph's  to  be  properl}'  admitted  as  a  bagpiper  in  your 
parts),  seemed  to  have  an  ill-natured  desire  to  prevent 
his  return.  Besides,  remembering  the  modesty  and  proper 
behavior  of  that  little  Brulette,  I  felt  more  and  more 
persuaded  that  injustice  was  being  done  her ;  and  I  could 
not  help  blaming  and  ridiculing  Joseph  for  so  readily  be- 
lieving such  a  wicked  story.  Doubtless  I  should  have  done 
better,  my  good  Tiennet^  to  have  left  him  in  the  belief  that 
Brulette  was  un worth}'  of  his  love  ;  but  I  can't  help\that ; 
a  sense  of  justice  guided  my  tongue,  and  prevented  me 
from  seeing  the  consequences.  I  w^as  so  displeased  to 
liear  an  innocent  young  girl  defamed  that  I  spoke  as  I 
felt.     It  had  a  greater  effect  upon  Joseph  than  I  expected. 


The  Bagpipers.  293 

He  went  instantl}'  from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  Burst- 
ing into  tears  like  a  child,  he  let  himself  drop  on  the 
ground,  tearing  his  clothes  and  pulHng  out  his  hair,  with 
such  anger  and  self-reproach  that  1  had  great  trouble  in 
pacifying  him.  Luckily  his  health  has  grown  nearly  as 
strong  as  yours ;  for  a  year  sooner  such  despair,  seizing 
him  in  this  manner,  would  have  killed  him.  I  spent  the 
rest  of  the  daj'  and  all  that  night  in  trying  to  compose  his 
mind.  It  was  not  an  easy  thing  for  me  to  do.  On  the 
one  hand,  I  knew  that  my  son  had  fallen  in  love  with 
Brulette  in  a  very  earnest  way  from  the  da}'  he  first  saw 
her,  and  that  he  was  only  reconciled  to  life  after  Joseph 
had  given  up  a  suit  which  thwarted  his  hopes.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  have  always  felt  a  great  regard  for  Joseph, 
and  I  know  that  Brulette  has  been  in  his  thoughts  since 
childhood.  I  had  to  sacrifice  one  or  the  other,  and  I 
asked  myself  if  I  should  not  do  a  selfish  deed  in  deciding 
for  the  happiness  of  m}'  own  son  against  that  of  my 
pupil.  Tiennet,  3*ou  don't  know  Joseph,  and  perhaps 
you  have  never  known  him.  My  daughter  Therence  may 
have  spoken  of  him  rather  severel3\  She  does  not  judge 
him  in  the  same  way  that  I  do.  She  thinks  him  selfish, 
hard,  and  ungrateful.  There  is  some  truth  in  that ;  but 
what  excuses  him  in  m}'  eyes  cannot  excuse  him  in  those 
of  a  3^oung  girl  like  Therence.  Women,  my  lad,  only 
want  us  to  love  them.  They  take  into  their  hearts  alone 
the  food  they  live  on.  God  made  them  so ;  and  we  men 
are  fortunate  if  we  are  worthy  to  understand  this." 

"  I  think,"  T  remarked  to  the  Head- Woodsman,  "that 
I  do  now  understand  it,  and  that  women  are  very  right 
to  want  nothing  else  of  us  but  our  hearts,  for  that  is  the 
best  thing  in  us." 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt,  my  son,  "  returned  the  fine  old 


294  The  Bagpipers. 

man;  "I  have  always  thought  so.  I  loved  the  mother 
of  m}''  children  more  than  money,  more  than  talent,  more 
than  pleasure  or  livel}^  talk,  more,  indeed,  than  anything 
in  the  world.  1  see  that  Huriel  is  tarred  with  the  same 
brush,  for  he  has  changed,  without  regret,  all  his  habits 
and  tastes  so  as  to  fit  himself  to  be  worth}'  of  Brulette. 
I  believe  that  3'ou  feel  in  the  same  way,  for  3'ou  show  it 
plainly  enough.  But,  nevertheless,  talent  is  a  thing  which 
God  likewise  values,  for  he  does  not  bestow  it  on  every- 
body, and  we  are  bound  to  respect  and  help  those  whom 
he  has  thus  marked  as  the  sheep  of  his  fold." 

"  But  don't  you  think  that  your  son  Huriel  has  as  much 
mind  and  more  talent  for  music  than  Jose?" 

''  My  son  Huriel  has  both  mind  and  talent.  He  was  re- 
ceived into  the  fraternity  of  the  bagpipers  when  he  was  only 
eighteen  years  old,  and  though  he  has  never  practised  the 
profession,  he  has  great  knowledge  and  aptitude  for  it. 
But  there  is  a  wide  difference,  friend  Tiennet,  between 
those  who  acquire  and  those  who  originate ;  there  are 
some  with  ready  fingers  and  accurate  memory  who  can 
play  agreeably  anything  they  learn,  but  there  are  others 
who  are  not  content  with  being  taught,  —  who  go  beyond 
all  teaching,  seeking  ideas,  and  bestowing  on  all  future 
musicians  the  gift  of  their  discoveries.  Now,  I  tell  you 
that  Joseph  is  one  of  them  ;  in  him  are  two  very  remark- 
able natures  :  the  nature  of  the  plain,  as  I  may  say,  where 
he  was  born,  which  gives  him  his  tranquil,  calm,  and  solid 
ideas,  and  the  nature  of  our  hills  and  woods,  which  have 
enlarged  his  understanding  and  brought  him  tender  and 
vivid  and  intelligent  thoughts.  He  will  one  day  be,  for 
those  who  have  ears  to  hear,  something  more  than  a  mere 
country  minstrel.  He  will  become  a  true  master  of  the 
bagpipe  as  in  the  olden  time,  —  one  of  those  to  whom  the 


The  Bagpipers.  295 

great  musicians  listened  witli  attention,  and  who  changed 
at  times  the  customs  of  their  art." 

"  Do  3'ou  really  think,  Pere  Bastien,  that  Jose  will 
become  a  second  Head- Woodsman  of  your  craft?" 

"  Ah  !  m}^  poor  Tiennet,"  replied  the  old  minstrel,  sigh- 
ing, "  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,  and  I 
should  have  hard  work  to  make  you  understand  it." 

''  Tr}'  to  do  so,  at  an}'  rate,"  I  replied  ;  "  3'ou  are  good 
to  listen  to,  and  it  is  n't  good  that  I  should  continue  the 
simpleton  that  I  am." 


296  The  Bagpipers, 


TWENTY-FIFTH   EVENINa. 

"You  must  know,"  began  Pere  Bastien,  veiy  readil}^ 
(for  he  was  fond  of  talking  when  he  was  listened  to  will- 
ingly), "  that  I  might  have  been  something  if  I  had  given 
mjself  wholly  up  to  music.  I  could  have  done  so  had  I 
made  myself  a  fiddler,  as  I  thought  of  doing  in  my  youth. 
I  don't  mean  that  one  improves  a  talent  by  fiddUng  three 
days  and  nights  at  a  wedding,  like  that  fellow  I  can  hear 
from  here,  murdering  the  tune  of  our  mountain  jig.  When 
a  man  has  no  object  before  his  mind  but  money,  he  gets 
tired  and  rusty ;  but  there's  a  way  for  an  artist  to  live  by 
his  body  without  killing  the  soul  within  him.  As  every 
festival  brings  him  in  at  least  twent}'  or  thirt}^  francs, 
that 's  enough  for  him  to  take  his  ease,  to  live  frugally,  and 
travel  about  for  pleasure  and  instruction.  That's  what 
Joseph  wants  to  do,  and  I  have  alwajs  advised  him  to  do 
it.  But  here 's  what  happened  to  me.  I  fell  in  love,  and  the 
mother  of  m}^  dear  children  would  not  hear  of  marrying  a 
fiddler  without  hearth  or  home,  alwaj's  a-going,  spending 
his  nights  in  a  racket  and  his  days  in  sleeping,  and  end- 
ing his  life  with  a  debauch  ;  for,  unhappily,  it  is  seldom 
that  a  man  can  keep  himself  straight  at  that  business. 
She  kept  me  tied  to  the  woodsman's  craft,  and  that 's  the 
whole  stor}'.  I  never  regretted  my  talent  as  long  as  she 
lived.  To  me,  as  I  told  you,  love  is  the  divinest  music. 
When  I  was  left  a  widower  with  two  young  children,  I 
gave  myself  wholl}^  to  them  ;  but  my  music  got  ver3^  rusty 
and    my  fingers  very  stiff  by   dint  of  handling  axe   and 


TJie  Bagpipers.  297 

shears ;  and,  I  confess  to  you,  Tiennet,  that  if  ni}'  two 
children  were  happily  married,  I  should  quit  this  burden- 
some business  of  shnging  iron  and  chopping  wood,  and  I 
would  be  off,  happy  and  young  again,  to  live  as  I  liked, 
seeking  converse  with  angels,  until  old  age  brought  me 
back,  feeble  but  satisfied,  to  my  children's  hearth.  And 
then,  too,  I  am  sick  of  felling  trees.  Do  you  know,  Tien- 
net, I  love  them,  those  noble  old  companions  of  my  life, 
who  have  told  me  so  many  things  by  the  murmur  of  their 
leaves  and  the  crackling  of  their  branches.  And  I,  more 
malignant  than  the  fire  from  heaven,  I  have  thanked  them 
by  driving  an  axe  into  their  hearts  and  laying  them  low 
at  my  feet  like  so  many  dismembered  corpses !  Don't 
laugh  at  me,  but  I  have  never  seen  an  old  oak  fall,  nor 
even  a  young  willow,  without  trembling  with  pity  or  with 
fear,  as  an  assassin  of  the  works  of  God.  I  long  to  walk 
beneath  their  shad}'  branches,  repulsed  no  longer  as  an 
ingrate,  and  listening  at  last  to  the  secrets  I  was  once 
unworthy  to  hear." 

The  Head-Woodsman,  whose  voice  had  grown  impas- 
sioned, stopped  short  and  thought  a  moment ;  and  so  did 
I,  amazed  not  to  think  him  the  madman  I  should  have 
thought  another  in  his  place,  —  perhaps  because  he  had 
managed  to  put  his  ideas  into  me,  or  possibh'  because  I 
myself  had  had  some  such  ideas  in  m}'  own  head. 

"  No  doubt  30U  are  thinking,"  he  resumed,  "  that  we 
have  got  a  long  way  from  Joseph.  But  you  are  mistaken, 
we  are  all  the  nearer ;  and  now  3'ou  shall  understand  how 
it  was  that  I  decided,  after  some  hesitation,  to  treat  the 
poor  fellow's  troubles  sternl}'.  I  have  often  said  to  m}'- 
self,  and  I  have  seen,  in  the  way  his  grief  affected  him, 
that  he  could  nevermake  a  woman  happy,  and  also  that 
he  would  never  be  happ3'  himself  with  an^'  woman,  unless 


298  The  Bagpipers, 

she  conld  make  him  the  pride  of  her  hfe.  For  it  must  be 
admitted  that  Joseph  has  more  need  of  praise  and  encour- 
agement tlian  of  love  and  friendship.  What  made  him  in 
love  with  Brulette  in  the  first  instance  was  that  she  listened 
to  his  music  and  urged  him  on  ;  what  kept  him  from  loving 
m}'  daughter  (for  his  return  to  her  was  onl^'  pique)  was 
that  Tlierence  requires  affection  more  than  knowledge,  and 
treated  him  like  a  son  rather  than  a  man  of  great  talent. 
I  venture  to  say  that  I  have  read  the  lad's  heart,  and  that 
his  one  idea  has  been  to  dazzle  Brulette  some  day  with 
his  success.  So  long  as  Brulette  was  held  to  be  the  queen 
of  beaut}'  and  dignity'  in  her  own  country  he  would,  thanks 
to  her,  enjoy  a  double  royalty ;  but  Brulette  smirched  by 
a  fault,  or  merel}"  degraded  by  the  suspicion  of  one,  was 
no  longer  his  cherished  dream.  I,  who  knew  the  heart  of 
my  son  Huriel,  I  knew  he  would  never  condemn  Brulette 
without  a  hearing,  and  that  if  she  had  not  done  anything 
wrong  he  would  love  her  and  protect  her  all  the  more 
because  she  was  misjudged.  So  that  decided  me,  finally', 
to  oppose  Joseph's  love,  and  to  advise  him  to  think  no 
longer  of  marriagCo  Indeed,  I  tried  to  make  him  under- 
stand that  Brulette  prefers  my  son,  which  is  what  I  believe 
m^'self  He  seemed  to  give  in  to  m}'  arguments,  but  it  was 
onl}',  I  think,  to  get  rid  of  them  ;  for  ^'esterda^'  morning, 
before  it  was  hght,  I  saw  him  making  his  preparations  for 
departure.  Though  he  thought  himself  cleverer  than  I, 
and  expected  to  get  off  without  being  seen,  I  kept  with 
him  until,  losing  patience,  he  let  out  the  whole  truth.  I 
saw  then  that  his  anger  was  great,  and  that  he  meant  to 
follow  Huriel  and  quarrel  with  him  about  Brulette,  if  he 
found  that  Brulette  was  worth  it.  As  he  was  still  uncer- 
tain on  the  latter  point,  I  thought  best  to  blame  him  and 
even  to  ridicule  a  love  like  his  which  was  only  jealousy 


The  Bagpipers.  299 

without  fespect,  —  glutton}-,  as  one  might  saj',  without  ap- 
petite. He  confessed  I  was  right ;  but  he  went  off  all  the 
same,  and  b}'  that  3'ou  can  judge  of  his  obstinacy.  Just 
as  he  was  about  to  be  received  into  the  guild  of  his  art 
(for  an  appointment  was  made  for  the  competition  near 
Auzances)  he  abandoned  everything,  though  certain  to 
lose  the  opportunity,  saying  he  could  get  himself  admitted 
willingly  or  unwillingl}'  in  his  own  countr}'.  Finding  him 
so  determined  that  he  even  came  near  getting  angrv  with 
me,  I  decided  to  come  with  him,  fearing  some  bad  action  on 
his  part  and  some  fresh  misfortune  for  Huriel.  We  parted 
only  a  couple  of  miles  from  here  at  the  village  of  Sarza}', 
where  he  took  the  road  to  Nohant,  while  I  came  on  here, 
hoping  to  find  Huriel  and  reason  with  him,  thinking  that  if 
necessar}'  m}'  legs  could  still  take  me  to  Nohant  to-night." 

'' Luckil}',  3'ou  can  rest  them  to-night,"  I  said;  ''to- 
morrow will  be  time  enough  to  discuss  matters.  But  are 
3^ou  really  anxious  for  what  ma}-  happen  if  the  two  gallants 
meet?  Joseph  w^as  never  quarrelsome,  to  m}'  knowledge  ; 
in  fact,  I  have  alwaj's  seen  him  hold  his  tongue  when 
people  showed  him  their  teeth." 

"Yes,  3'es,"  answered  Pere  Bastien  ;  "but  that  was 
in  the  days  when  he  was  a  sickl}'  child  and  doubted  his 
strength.  There  is  no  more  dangerous  water  than  still 
water;    it  is   not  always  healthy  to  stir  the  depths." 

"  Don't  3'ou  want  to  come  in  to  3-our  new  abode  and 
see  your  daughter?" 

"No,  3'ou  said  she  was  resting;  I  am  not  anxious 
about  her,  I  am  much  more  desirous  to  know  the  truth 
about  Brulette  ;  for,  though  m3'  heart  defends  her,  still  my 
reason  tells  me  that  there  ma^'  have  been  some  little  thing 
in  her  conduct  which  la3's  her  open  to  blame  ;  and  I  feel  I 
ought  to  know  more  before  going  too  far." 


300  ■        The  Bagpipers. 

I  was  about  to  tell  him  what  had  happened  an  hour  be- 
fore, under  ni}'  ver}'  eyes,  between  Huriel  and  m}'  aunt, 
when  Huriel  himself  appeared,  sent  by  Brulette,  who  was 
afraid  Therence  might  be  unable  to  get  Chariot  to  sleep. 
Father  and  son  had  an  explanation,  in  which  Huriel,  beg- 
ging his  father  not  to  ask  for  a  secret  he  was  bound  not  to 
tell,  and  which  Brulette  herself  was  not  aware  that  he 
knew,  swore  on  liis  baptism  that  Brulette  was  worthy  of 
his  father's  blessing. 

''  Come  and  see  her,  dear  father,"  he  added  ;  "  3'ou  can 
do  it  very  easily  because  we  are  now  dancing  out  of  doors, 
and  3'ou  need  no  invitation  to  be  present.  By  the  very 
wa}"  she  kisses  you,  3'ou  will  know  that  no  girl  so  sweet 
and  amiable  was  ever  more  pure  in  heart." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  my  son ;  and  I  will  go  to  please 
3^ou,  and  also  for  tlie  pleasure  of  seeing  her.  But  wait  a 
moment,  for  I  want  to  speak  to  3'ou  of  Joseph." 

I  thought  I  had  better  leave  them  alone,  so  I  went  off  to 
tell  m3"  aunt  of  Pere  Bastien's  arrival,  knowing  she  would 
welcome  him  heartil3^  and  not  let  him  sta3'  outside.  But 
I  found  no  one  in  the  house  but  Brulette.  The  whole 
wedding  part3',  with  the  music  at  tlieir  head,  had  gone  to 
carr3'  the  roast  to  the  newly  married  couple,  who  liad  re- 
tired to  a  neighboring  house,  for  it  was  past  eleven  o'clock 
at  night.  It  is  an  ancient  custom,  which  I  have  never 
thought  very  nice,  to  shame  a  3'oung  bride  b3^  a  visit  and 
joking  songs.  Though  the  other  girls  had  all  gone,  with 
or  without  malicious  intention,  Brulette  had  had  the  de- 
cency to  sta3^  in  the  chimney-corner,  where  I  found  her 
sitting,  as  if  keeping  watch  in  the  kitchen,  but  reall3' 
taking  the  sleep  she  so  much  needed.  I  did  not  care  to 
disturb  her  nor  to  deprive  her  of  the  fine  surprise  she 
would  feel  on  waking,  at  sight  of  the  Head- Woodsman. 


The  Bagpipers.  301 

Very  tired  m3'self,  I  sat  down  at  a  table,  laid  m}^  arms 
on  it  and  my  head  on  my  arms,  as  you  do  when  you  mean 
to  take  a  five  minutes'  nap ;  but  I  thought  of  Therence 
and  did  not  sleep.  For  a  moment  only  my  thoughts  were 
hazy,  and  just  then  a  trilling  noise  made  me  open  my  eyes 
without  lifting  my  head,  and  I  saw  a  man  enter  and  walk 
up  to  the  chimney.  Though  the  candles  had  all  been 
carried  off  for  the  visit  to  the  bride,  the  fire  of  fagots 
which  flamed  on  the  hearth  gave  light  enough  to  enable 
me  to  recognize  at  once  who  it  was.  It  was  Joseph,  who 
no  doubt  had  met  some  of  the  wedding  guests  on  his  way 
to  Nohant,  and  finding  where  we  were,  had  retraced  his 
steps.  He  was  dusty  with  his  journey  and  carried  a  bun- 
dle on  the  end  of  his  stick,  which  he  threw  into  a  corner 
and  then  stood  stock  still  like  a  mile-stone,  looking  at 
Brulette  asleep,  and  taking  no  notice  of  me. 

The  year  during  which  I  had  not  seen  him  had  made  as 
great  a  change  in  him  as  it  had  in  Therence.  His  health 
beino;  better  than  it  ever  was,  it  was  safe  to  call  him  a 
handsome  man,  whose  square  shoulders  and  wiry  figure 
were  more  muscular  than  thin.  His  face  was  sallow, 
partly  from  a  bilious  constitution  and  paitly  from  the  heat 
of  the  sun  ;  and  this  swarthy  tint  went  singularly  well  with 
his  large  light  eyes,  and  his  long  straight  hair.  It  was 
still  the  same  sad  and  dreamy  face ;  but  something  bold 
and  decided,  showing  the  harsh  will  so  long  concealed, 
was  mingled  in  it. 

I  did  not  move,  wishing  to  observe  the  manner  in  which 
he  approached  Brulette  and  so  judge  of  ihis  coming  meet- 
ing with  Huriel.  No  doubt  he  did  study  the  girl's  face 
seeking  for  truth  ;  and  perhaps  beneath  the  eyelids,  closed 
in  quiet  slumber,  he  perceived  her  peace  of  heart ;  for  the 
girl  was  sweetly  pretty  seen  at  that  moment  in  the  blaze 


802  The  Bagpipers, 

from  the  hearth.  Her  complexion  was  still  bright  with 
pleasure,  her  mouth  smiled  with  contentment,  and  the 
silken  lashes  of  her  closed  eyes  cast  a  soft  shadow  on  her 
cheeks,  which  seemed  to  quiver  beneath  tliem  like  the  sly 
glances  that  girls  cast  on  their  lovers.  But  Brulette  was 
sound  asleep,  dreaming  no  doubt  of  Huriel,  and  thinking 
as  little  of  alluring  Joseph  as  of  repelling  him. 

I  saw  that  he  felt  her  beauty  so  much  that  his  wrath 
hung  by  a  thread,  for  he  leaned  over  her  and,  with  a  cour- 
age I  did  not  give  him  credit  for,  he  put  his  lips  quite 
close  to  hers  and  would  have  touched  them  if  I,  in  a  sud- 
den rage,  had  not  coughed  violently  and  stopped  the  kiss 
on  its  way. 

Brulette  woke  up  with  a  start ;  I  pretended  to  do  the 
same,  and  Joseph  felt  a  good  deal  of  a  fool  between  the 
pair  of  us,  who  both  asked  what  he  was  doing,  without  any 
appearance  of  confusion  on  Brulette's  part  or  of  malice 
on  mine. 


The  Bagpipers.  303 


TWENTY-SIXTH   EVENING. 

Joseph  recovered  himself  quickl}^,  and  showing  plainly 
that  he  did  not  mean  to  be  put  in  the  wrong,  he  said  to 
Brulette,  "  I  am  glad  to  find  you  here.  After  a  3'ear's 
absence  don't  you  mean  to  kiss  an  old  friend  ?  " 

He  approached  her  again,  but  she  drew  back,  surprised 
at  his  singular  manner,  and  said,  "  No,  Jose,  it  is  not  my 
way  to  kiss  any  lad,  no  matter  how  old  a  friend  he  is  or 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  him." 

"  You  have  grown  very  coy  !  "  he  said,  in  an  angry  and 
scoffing  tone. 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  been  coy  with  you.  Joseph  ; 
3'ou  never  gave  me  any  reason  to  be  ;  and  as  3'ou  never 
asked  me  to  be  familiar,  I  never  had  occasion  to  forbid 
your  kissing  me.  Nothing  is  changed  between  us  and  I 
do  not  know  why  you  should  now  la}^  claim  to  what  has 
never  entered  into  our  friendship." 

"  What  an  amount  of  talk  and  wr}^  faces,  all  about  a 
kiss,"  said  Joseph,  his  anger  rising.  "  If  I  never  asked 
for  what  you  were  ready  enough  to  give  others  it  was 
because  I  was  a  young  fool.  I  thought  you  would  receive 
me  better  now  that  I  am  neither  a  ninny  nor  a  coward." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  him?"  asked  Brulette, 
surprised  and  even  frightened,  and  coming  close  up  to 
me.  "Is  it  reall}'  he,  or  some  one  who  looks  like  him? 
I  thought  I  saw  our  Jose,  but  this  is  not  his  speech  nor 
his  face  nor  his  friendship." 

"  How  have  I  changed,  Brulette?"  began  Jose,  a  little 


304  TJie  Bagpipers, 

disconcerted  and  already  repentant.  "Is  it  that  I  now 
have  the  courage  I  once  lacked  to  tell  you  that  you  are 
to  me  the  loveliest  in  the  world,  and  that  I  have  always 
longed  for  your  good  graces  ?  There  's  no  offence  in  that, 
I  hope ;  and  perhaps  I  am  not  more  unworth}^  of  them 
than  others  whom  you  allow  to  hang  round  3'ou." 

So  saying,  with  a  return  of  his  vexation,  he  looked  me 
in  the  face,  and  I  saw  he  was  trying  to  pick  a  qfuarrel 
with  whoever  would  take  him  up.  I  asked  nothing  better 
than  to  draw  his  first  fire.  '*  Joseph,"  I  said,  "  Brule tte 
is  rio^ht  in  thinkino-  you  chansred.  There  is  nothinsj  sur- 
prising  in  that.  We  know  how  we  part,  but  not  how  we 
meet  again.  You  need  not  be  surprised,  either,  if  you 
find  a  little  change  in  me.  I  have  alwa3's  been  quiet  and 
patient,  standing  by  you  in  all  yoxxv  difficulties  and  con- 
soling 3'our  vexations  ;  but  if  you  have  grown  more  unjust 
than  you  used  to  be,  I  have  grown  more  touchy,  and  I 
take  it  ill  that  3'ou  should  sa3"  to  m3'  cousin  before  me 
that  she  is  prodigal  of  her  kisses  and  allows  too  many 
3'oung  men  about  her." 

Joseph  e3'ed  me  contemptuousl3^,  and  put  on  a  really 
devilish  look  of  malice  as  he  laughed  in  my  face.  Then 
he  said,  crossing  his  arms,  and  looking  at  me  as  though 
he  were  taking  my  measure,  "Well,  is  it  possible,  Tien- 
net?  Can  this  be  3^ou?  However,  I  always  did  doubt 
you,  and  the  friendship  3'ou  professed  —  to  deceive  me." 

"What  do  3'ou  mean  b3' that,  Jos '?  "  said  Brulette, 
much  affronted  and  fancying  he  had  lost  his  mind. 
"  Where  did  you  get  the  right  to  blame  me,  and  why 
are  3^ou  tr3ing  to  see  something  wrong  or  ridiculous 
between  my  cousin  and  me  ?  Are  3"ou  ill  or  drunken,  that 
you  forget  the  respect  3'Ou  owe  me  and  the  affection  that 
3'ou  know  I  deserve  ?  " 


The  Bagpipers.  305 

Joseph  drew  in  his  horns,  and  taking  Brulette's  hand 
in  his,  he  said  to  her,  witli  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  "  I  am 
to  blame,  Brulette  ;  yes,  I  'm  irritable  from  fatigue  and 
the  desire  to  get  here ;  but  I  feel  nothing  but  devotion 
for  you,  and  3'ou  ought  not  to  take  it  in  bad  part.  I  know 
\Qxy  well  that  3'our  manners  are  dignified  and  that  you 
exact  the  respect  of  everybody.  It  is  due  to  3'our  beauty, 
which,  I  see,  is  greater,  not  less,  than  ever.  But  you 
surely  will  allow  that  3'ou  love  pleasure,  and  that  people 
often  kiss  each  other  when  dancing.  It  is  the  custom, 
and  I  shall  think  it  a  verj^  good  one  when  I  profit  by  it ; 
which  will  be  now,  for  I  have  learned  how  to  dance  like 
others,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  am  going  to 
dance  with  you.  I  hear  the  bagpipes  returning.  Come, 
you  shall  see  that  all  ni}^  ill-humor  will  clear  off  under  the 
happiness  of  being  30ur  sweetheart." 

"  Jose,"  replied  Brulette,  not  more  than  half  pleased 
at  this  speech,  "  3'ou  are  ver3'  much  mistaken  if  3'ou  think 
I  still  have  sweethearts  ;  I  ma3"  have  been  coquettish,  — 
that 's  m3^  wa3',  and  I  am  not  bound  to  give  account  of 
m3'  actions ;  but  I  have  also  the  right  and  the  will  to 
change  m3'  wa3's.  I  no  longer  dance  with  ever3^body,  and 
to-night  I  shall  not  dance  again." 

"  I  should  have  thought,"  said  Joseph,  piqued,  "  that 
1  was  not  '  everybod3','  as  3'ou  sa3',  to  an  old  friend  with 
whom  I  made  m3^  first  communion,  and  under  whose  roof 
I  lived." 

The  music  and  the  weddino;  o-uests  returnins:  with  a 
great  racket,  cut  short  their  words,  and  Huriel,  also  en- 
tering, full  of  eagerness  and  taking  no  notice  of  Joseph, 
caught  Brulette  on  his  arm  and  carried  her  like  a  feather 
to  his  father,  who  was  waiting  outside,  and  who  kissed  her 
joyousl3',  to  the  great  anno3-ance  of  Joseph,  who  clenched 

20 


80G  The  Bagjnjjers. 

his  fists  as  he  watched  her  payhig  the  old  man  the  fiUal 
attentions  of  a  daughter. 

Creeping  up  to  tlie  Head- Woodsman  I  whispered  that 
Joseph  was  there,  in  a  bad  temper,  and  I  proposed  that 
he  should  draw  Huriel  aside  while  I  persuaded  Brulette 
to  go  to  bed.  Joseph,  who  was  not  invited  to  the  wedding, 
would  thus  be  obliged  to  go  off*  and  sleep  at  Nohant  or  at 
some  other  house  in  Chassin.  The  Head- Woodsman 
thought  the  suggestion  good,  and  pretending  not  to  see 
Joseph,  who  kept  in  the  background,  he  talked  apart  with 
Huriel,  wliile  Brulette  went  away  to  see  in  what  part  of 
the  house  she  could  stow  herself  for  the  night.  But  my 
aunt,  who  had  counted  on  lodging  us,  did  not  expect  that 
Brulette  would  take  it  into  her  head  to  go  to  bed  before 
three  or  four  in  the  morniug.  The  3'oung  men  never  go 
to  bed  at  all  on  the  first  night  of  a  wedding,  and  do  their 
best  to  keep  up  the  dauce  for  tln'ee  da3's  and  three  nights 
running.  If  one  of  them  gets  tired,  he  goes  into  the 
hayloft  and  takes  a  nap.  As  to  the  girls  and  women, 
they  all  retire  into  one  room ;  but  generalh^  it  is  only  the 
old  women  and  the  ugly  ones  who  abandon  the  dance. 

So,  when  Brulette  went  up  to  the  room  where  she  ex- 
pected to  find  a  place  next  to  some  of  her  relatives,  she 
came  upon  a  crowd  of  snorers,  among  whom  not  a  corner 
as  big  as  the  palm  of  her  hand  was  vacant ;  and  the  few 
who  woke  up  told  her  to  come  again  towards  morning, 
when  they  would  be  ready  to  go  down  and  serve  the 
tables.     She  came  back  to  us  and  told  her  difficulty. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Pere  Bastien,  "you  must  go  and 
sleep  with  Therence.  M}'  son  and  I  will  spend  the  night 
here  so  that  no  talk  can  be  made  about  it." 

I  declared  that  in  order  to  a\'oid  giving  a  pretext  for 
Joseph's  jealousy  Brulette  could  casil}'  slip  out  with  me 


The  Bagpipers.  307 

witliont  saying  a  word  ;  and  Pere  Bastien  going  up  to  him 
and  pl3'ing  him  with  questions,  I  took  raj'  cousin  to  the 
old  castle  by  a  back  way  through  ni}'  aunt's  garden. 

"When  I  returned  I  found  the  Head- Woodsman,  Joseph, 
and  Huriel  at  table  together.  They  called  me,  and  I  sat 
down  to  supper  with  them,  eating,  drinking,  talking,  and 
singing  to  avoid  an  explosion  of  anger  which  might  follow 
on  any  talk  about  Brulette.  Joseph,  seeing  us  determined 
to  keep  the  peace,  controlled  himself  at  first,  and  even 
seemed  ga}' ;  but  he  could  not  help  biting  as  he  caressed, 
and  every  joke  he  made  had  a  sting  at  the  end  of  it.  The 
Head- Woodsman  tried  to  keep  down  his  bile  with  a  meas- 
ure of  wine,  and  I  think  Joseph  might  willingly  have 
yielded  in  order  to  forget  himself,  if  it  were  not  that  wine 
never  affected  him.  He  drank  four  times  as  much  as  the 
rest  of  us,  who  had  no  reason  to  wish  to  drown  our  intelli- 
gence, and  yet  his  ideas  were  all  the  clearer  and  his 
speech,  too. 

At  last,  after  some  particularly  spiteful  remarks  on  the 
slyness  of  women  and  the  treachery  of  friends,  Huriel, 
striking  his  fist  on  the  table  and  grasping  his  father's 
elbow,  which  for  some  time  past  had  been  nudging  him  to 
keep  quiet,  said  in  a  decided  tone  :  — 

"  No,  father,  excuse  me,  but  I  cannot  stand  any  more 
of  this,  and  it  is  much  better  to  say  so  openl3\  I  know 
very  well  that  Joseph's  teeth  will  be  as  sharp  a  year  hence 
as  they  are  now,  and  though  I  have  closed  my  ears  to  his 
sayings  up  to  this  time,  it  is  right  that  they  should  open 
now  to  his  unjust  remarks  and  reproaches.  Come,  Joseph, 
for  the  last  hour  I  have  seen  what  3'ou  mean  ;  you  have 
wasted  a  great  deal  of  wit.  Talk  plain,  I'm  listening; 
say  what  3'ou  have  on  your  mind,  with  the  whys  and  the 
wherefores.     I  vrill  an^^^wor  you  frankl3\" 


308  The  BagpijJers. 

"Well,  so  be  it;  come  to  an  explanation,"  said  the 
Head-Woodsman,  reversing  his  glass  and  deciding  the  sit- 
uation, as  he  well  knew  how  to  do  when  it  became  neces- 
sar}^ ;  "  we  will  have  no  more  drinking  if  it  is  not  to  be  in 
friendship,  for  it  is  ill  mixing  the  devil's  venom  with  the 
good  God's  wine." 

"  You  surprise  me,  both  of  you,"  said  Joseph,  who  had 
grown  3'ellow  to  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  though  he  still 
continued  to  laugh  vindictively.  "  What  the  devil  are 
you  angrv  about,  and  why  do  you  scratch  yourselves  when 
nothing  is  biting  you  ?  I  have  nothing  against  anybodj^ ; 
only  I  happen  to  be  in  the  humor  to  jeer  at  everj'thing, 
and  I  don't  think  you  are  likel}-  to  rid  me  of  it." 

"Perhaps  I  could,"  said  Huriel,  provoked. 

"  Try,"  said  Joseph,  sneering. 

"  That's  enough!  "  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  striking 
the  table  with  his  heavy  hand,  "  Hold  your  tongues,  both 
of  you,  and  as  there  is  no  frankness  in  you,  Joseph,  I 
shall  have  enough  for  the  two.  You  misjudged  in  your 
heart  the  woman  3'ou  wished  to  love  ;  that  is  a  wrong  that 
God  can  pardon,  for  it  is  not  always  easy  for  a  man  to  be 
trustful  or  distrustful  in  his  friendsliips ;  but  it  is,  nnfor- 
tunateh',  a  wrong  that  cannot  be  repaired.  You  fell  into 
that  blunder ;  3'ou  must  accept  the  consequences  and 
submit  to  them." 

"  Wliy  so,  master?"  said  Joseph,  setting  up  his  back 
like  an  angry  cat,  "  who  will  tell  the  wrong  to  Brulette? 
she  has  not  known  or  suffered  from  it. " 

"  No  one,"  said  Huriel,  "  I  am  not  a  blackguard." 

"  Then  who  will  tell  it?  "  demanded  Josepli. 

"  Yourself,"  said  Pere  Bastien. 

"  What  can  make  me?  " 

"  The  consciousness  of  vour  love  for  her.     Doubt  never 


The  Bagpipers.  309 

comes  singl}'.  Yoii  may  get  over  the  first  twinge,  but 
there  comes  a  second,  which  will  issue  from  your  lips  at 
the  first  words  you  sa}^  to  her." 

"  In  fact,  I  think  it  has  happened  already,  Joseph," 
said  I,  "  for  this  very  evening  you  offended  the  person  we 
are  speaking  of." 

"  Perhaps  I  did,"  he  said  haughtily,  "  but  that  is  between 
her  and  me.  If  I  choose  that  she  shall  return  to  me  what 
makes  3'ou  think  she  will  not  return?  I  remember  my 
master's  song,  —  the  music  is  beautiful  and  the  words  are 
true,  —  'Gifts  are  for  those  who  pra}-.'  Well,  Huriel, 
go  ahead.  Ask  in  words  and  I  will  ask  in  music,  and  we 
will  see  whether  or  no  I  can't  win  her  back  again.  Come, 
play  fair,  you  who  blame  what  3'ou  call  my  crooked  ways. 
The  game  is  between  us,  and  we  '11  have  no  shuffling.  A 
fine  house  has  more  than  one  door,  and  we  '11  each  knock 
at  the  one  that  suits  us." 

"  I  am  willing,"  said  Huriel,  "but  you  will  please  to 
remember  one  thing.  I  will  stand  no  more  fault-finding, 
whether  in  jest  or  earnest.  If  I  overlook  the  past,  m}'  good- 
nature does  not  go  so  far  as  to  allow  an}^  more  of  it." 

"What  do  3'ou  mean  b\'  that?"  demanded  Joseph, 
whose  bile  interfered  with  his  memor}'. 

"  I  forbid  you  to  ask,"  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  "  and 
I  command  you  to  bethink  3'ourself.  If  3'ou  fight  my  son 
3'ou  will  be  none  the  more  innocent  for  that,  and  it  will 
not  add  to  3'our  credit  if  I  withdraw  the  forgiveness 
which,  without  a  w^ord  of  explanation,  my  heart  has  al- 
read}'  granted  3'Ou." 

"  Master!  "  cried  Joseph,  hot  with  excitement,  "if  3'ou 
think  3''ou  have  anything  to  forgive  I  thank  30U  for  3'our 
forgiveness ;  but,  in  m3'  opinion,  I  have  done  3'ou  no  wrong. 
I  never  dreamed  of  deceiving  3'Ou ;  and  if  3'our  daughter 


310  The  Bagpipers. 

had  said  j'es,  I  should  not  have  backed  down  from  my 
offer.  She  is  a  girl  without  an  equal  for  sense  and  up- 
rightness ;  I  should  have  loved  her,  ill  or  well,  but  at 
any  rate  sincerely  and  without  betra3'ing  her.  She  might 
perhaps  have  saved  me  from  much  evil  and  much  suffer- 
ing ;  but  she  did  not  think  me  worthy  of  her.  Therefore 
I  am  at  liberty  to  court  whom  I  will ;  and  I  consider  that 
the  man  I  trusted  and  who  promised  me  his  help  has 
made  haste  to  take  advantage  of  my  momentary  pique  to 
supplant  me." 

''Your  momentar}^  pique  lasted  a  month,  Joseph," 
said  Huriel ;  "be  fair  about  it,  —  one  month,  during 
which  you  asked  my  sister  in  marriage  three  times.  I  am 
forced  to  believe  that  you  held  her  in  derision ;  if  3'ou 
wish  to  clear  3'ourself  of  that  insult  you  must  admit  that 
I  was  not  to  blame  in  the  matter.  I  believed  3'our  word  ; 
that  is  the  only  wrong  I  have  done  ;  don't  give  me  reason 
to  think  it  is  one  I  must  repent  of" 

Joseph  kept  silence;  then,  rising,  he  said,  "Yes,  3'ou 
are  good  at  argument ;  3'OU  are  both  cleverer  than  I  at 
that ;  I  have  spoken  and  acted  like  a  man  who  does  not 
know  what  he  wants ;  but  3'Ou  are  greater  fools  than  I  if 
3'OU  don't  know  that,  without  being  mad,  we  ma3'  wish  for 
two  opposite  things.  Leave  me  to  be  what  I  am,  and  I 
will  leave  3'ou  to  be  what  3"ou  wish  to  be.  If  3'our  heart 
is  honest,  Huriel,  I  shall  soon  know  it,  and  if  3'Ou  win 
the  game  fairl3',  I  will  do  3'Ou  justice  and  withdraw  with- 
out resentment." 

"  How  can  3'ou  tell  if  my  heart  is  honest  when  3'ou 
have  been  unable  to  judge  it  rightl3'  hitherto  ?  " 

"  I  can  tell  b3'  what  you  now  sa3"  of  me  to  Brulette," 
replied  Joseph.  "You  are  in  a  position  to  prejudice  her 
against  me  and  I  cannot  do  the  same  by  3'ou." 


The  Bagpipers.  311 

"  Stop  !  "  I  said  to  Joseph,  "  don't  blame  any  one  un- 
justh\  Therence  has  already  told  Brulette  that  you  asked 
her  in  marriage  not  a  fortnight  ago." 

"But  nothing  further  has  been  or  will  be  told,"  added 
Huriel ;  "  Joseph,  we  are  better  than  you  think  us.  We 
do  not  want  to  deprive  3'ou  of  Brulette's  friendship." 

The  words  touched  Joseph,  and  he  put  out  his  hand 
as  if  to  take  Huriel's ;  but  the  good  intention  stopped 
half-wa}^  and  he  went  off  without  another  word  to  any 
one. 

"  A  hard  heart !  "  cried  Huriel,  who  was  too  kind  him- 
self not  to  suffer  from  this  ingratitude. 

''  No,  an  unhapp3'  one,"  said  his  father. 

Struck  by  the  words,  I  followed  Joseph  to  either  scold 
him  or  console  him,  for  he  looked  as  if  death  were  in  his 
e^'es.  I  was  quite  as  much  displeased  with  him  as  Huriel 
was.  but  the  old  habit  of  pitjing  and  protecting  him  was 
so  strong  that  it  carried  me  after  him  whether  I  would 
or  no. 

He  walked  so  rapidl}^  along  the  road  to  Nohant  that 
I  soon  lost  sight  of  him  ;  but  he  stopped  at  the  edge  of 
the  Lajon,  a  little  pond  on  a  barren  heath.  The  place  is 
very  drear}',  and  without  shade,  except  that  of  a  few 
stunted  trees  ill-fed  in  the  poor  soil ;  but  the  swampy  land 
around  the  pond  abounded  with  wild-flowers,  and  as  the 
white  water-lil}^  and  other  marsh  plants  were  now  in 
bloom,  the  place  smelt  as  sweet  as  a  garden. 

Joseph  had  flung  himself  down  among  the  reeds,  and 
not  knowing  that  he  was  followed  but  believing  himself  all 
alone,  he  was  groaning  and  growling  at  the  same  time, 
like  a  wounded  wolf.  T  called  him,  merel}'  to  let  him 
know  I  was  there,  for  I  knew  he  would  not  answer  me, 
and  I  went  straight  up  to  him. 


312  The  Bagpipers, 

"  This  is  not  the  right  thing  at  all/'  I  said  to  him  ; 
"you  ought  to  take  counsel  with  3'ourself ;  tears  are  not 
reasons." 

"  I  am  not  weeping,  Tiennet,"  he  answered,  in  a  stead}^ 
voice.  "  I  am  neither  so  weak  nor  so  happy  that  I  can 
find  comfort  that  wa}'.  It  is  seldom,  in  my  worst  mo- 
ments, that  a  tear  gets  out  of  my  eyes,  and  it  is  fire,  not 
water,  that  is  forcing  its  way  now,  for  it  burns  like  live 
coal.  But  don't  ask  me  why ;  I  can't  tell  wh}',  and  I 
don't  want  to  seek  for  the  cause  of  it.  The  day  of  trust- 
ing in  others  is  over  with  me.  I  know  my  strength,  and 
I  no  longer  need  their  help.  It  was  only  given  out  of 
pity,  and  I  want  no  more  of  it ;  I  can  rely  in  future  on 
m3'self.  Thank  you  for  3'our  good  intentions.  Thank 
3'ou,  and  please  leave  me.'^ 

"  But  where  are  3'ou  going  to  spend  the  night?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  my  mother's." 

"It  is  very  late,  and  it  is  so  far  from  here  to  Saint- 
Chartier." 

"  No  matter,"  he  said,  rising,  "  I  can't  stay  here.  We 
shall  meet  to-morrow,  Tiennet." 

"  Yes,  at  home  ;  we  go  back  tomorrow." 

"  I  don't  care  where,"  he  said.  "  Wherever  she  is  — 
3'our  Brulette  —  I  shall  find  her,  and  perhaps  it  will  be  seen 
that  she  has  not  made  her  final  choice  !  " 

He  went  off"  with  a  determined  air,  and  seeing  that  his 
pride  supported  him  I  off'ered  no  further  consolation. 
Fatigue,  and  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  mother,  and  a  day 
or  two  for  reflection  might,  I  hoped,  bring  him  to  reason. 
I  planned,  therefore,  to  advise  Brulette  to  stay  at  Chassin 
over  the  next  da}^,  and  making  my  way  back  to  the  village 
with  this  idea  in  my  head  I  came  upon  the  Head- Woods- 
man and  his  son,  in  a  corner  of  the  field  through  which  I 


TJie  Bagpipers.  313 

was  making  a  short  cut.  They  were  preparing  what  they 
called  their  bed-clothes  ;  in  other  words,  making  ready  to 
sleep  on  the  ground,  not  wishing  to  disturb  the  two  girls 
in  the  castle,  and  reall}'  preferring  to  lie  under  the  stars  at 
this  sweet  season  of  the  3'ear.  I  liked  the  idea,  too,  for 
the  fresh  grass  seemed  much  nicer  than  the  hay  of  a  barn 
heated  by  the  bodies  of  a  score  of  other  fellows.  So  I 
stretched  m3self  beside  Huriel,  looked  at  the  little  white 
clouds  in  the  clear  sky,  smelt  the  hawthorn  odors,  and  fell 
asleep,  thinking  of  Therence  in  the  sweetest  slumber  I 
ever  had  in  my  life. 

I  have  alwaj's  been  a  good  sleeper,  and  in  my  youth  I 
seldom  wakened  of  myself.  My  two  companions,  who 
had  walked  a  lonsj  distance  the  dav  before,  let  the  sun 
rise  without  their  knowing  it,  and  woke  up  laugliing  to 
find  him  ahead  of  them,  which  did  n't  happen  very  often. 
The}^  laughed  still  more  to  see  how  cautious  I  was  not  to 
tumble  out  of  bed  when  I  opened  my  e3'es  and  looked 
about  to  see  where   I  was. 

"Come,  up,  m}^  boj- !  "  said  Huriel;  "we  are  late 
enough  alread3\  Do  you  know  something?  It  is  the 
last  day  of  Ma}',  and  it  is  the  fashion  in  our  parts  to  tie 
a  nosegay  to  our  sweetheart's  door  when  there  was  no 
chance  to  do  it  on  the  first  of  the  month.  There  is  no  fear 
that  any  one  has  got  ahead  of  us,  because,  for  one  thing, 
no  one  knows  where  m}'  sister  and  3'our  cousin  are  lodg- 
ing, and  for  another,  it  is  n't  the  custom  in  this  part  of  the 
countr3'  to  leave,  as  we  sa3',  the  call-again  bunch.  But 
we  are  so  late  I  fear  the  girls  are  up,  and  if  the3^  leave 
their  rooms  before  the  Ma3'-bunch  is  hung  to  the  door 
the3^  will  cry  out  upon  us  for  laziness." 

"  As  cousin,"  I  answer,  laughing,  "  I  permit  3'ou  to 
hang  your  bunch,  and,  as  brother,  I  ask  3'our  permission 


314  The  Bagpipers. 

to  hang  mine ;  but  perhaps  the  father  won't  hear  of  it 
with  your  ears." 

''  Yes,  he  will,"  said  Pere  Bastien.  "  Huriel  said  some- 
thing to  me  about  it.  There  's  no  difficulty  in  trj^ing ; 
succeeding  is  another  thing.  If  you  know  how  to  man- 
age it,  so  much  the  better,  my  lad.     It  is  your  affair." 

Encouraged  b}'  his  friendliness,  I  rushed  into  the  adjoin- 
ing copse  with  a  light  heart,  and  cut  off  the  whole  branch 
of  a  wild  cherry-tree  in  full  bloom,  while  Huriel,  who  had 
already  provided  himself  with  one  of  those  beautiful  silk 
and  gold  ribbons  which  the  women  of  his  country  wear 
beneath  their  lace  coifs,  gathered  a  bunch  of  white  haw- 
thorn and  a  bunch  of  pink  and  tied  them  in  a  nosegay 
that  was   worth}'  of  a   queen. 

We  made  but  three  strides  from  the  field  to  the  castle, 
where  the  silence  assured  us  that  the  beauties  still  slept,  — 
no  doubt  from  having  talked  half  the  night.  But  imagine 
our  amazement  when,  on  entering  the  court3'ard,  our  e3'es 
lighted  on  a  superb  nosega}',  decked  with  silver  and  white 
ribbons,  hanging  to  the  door  we  intended  to  garland. 

"  The  devil !  "  cried  Huriel,  preparing  to  tear  awa}"  the 
offending  bunch,  and  looking  askance  at  his  dog  whom 
he  had  stationed  in  the  courtj'ard.  "  Is  this  the  wa}'  3'ou 
guard  the  house,  master  Satan?  Have  3'ou  made  acquain- 
tances already?  win'  did  n't  3'ou  bite  the  legs  of  this  Maj^- 
day  prowler  ?  " 

"  Stop,"  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  preventing  his  son 
from  taking  down  the  nosega3\  "There  is  but  one  per- 
son in  these  parts  whom  Satan  knows  and  who  also  knows 
our  custom  of  the  call-again  bunch,  for  he  has  seen  it 
practised  among  us.  Now,  30U  pledged  3'our  word  to 
that  person  not  to  interfere  with  him.  You  must  be  sat- 
isfied  to  make   \'Ourself  acceptable   and   not  undermine 


The  Bagpipers.  315 

him  ;  respect  his  offering,  just  as  he,  no  doubt,  would  have 
respected  3'ours." 

"  Yes,  father,"  replied  Huriel,  "if  I  were  sure  it  was 
he ;  but  it  maj'  be  some  one  else,  and  the  bunch  may  be 
intended  for  Therence." 

I  remarked  that  no  one  knew  Therence  or  had  even  seen 
her,  and  looking  closer  at  the  flowers  I  saw  that  a  mass  of 
white  pond-hli'os  had  been  freshlj'  gathered  and  tied  in 
bunches,  and  I  remembered  that  these  plants  were  not 
common  in  the  neighborhood  and  grew  only  in  the  Lajon, 
on  the  banks  of  which  I  had  found  Joseph  lying.  No 
doubt,  instead  of  going  to  Saint-Chartier  he  had  returned 
upon  his  steps ;  and  he  must  even  have  waded  into  the 
water  on  the  shifting  sand  of  the  pond,  which  is  danger- 
ous, before  he  could  gather  such  an  armful. 

"Well,  the  battle  has  begun,"  said  Huriel,  sighing, 
as  he  fastened  his  Ma3'-bunch  to  the  door  with  an 
anxious  look  that  seemed  to  me  very  modest,  for  he 
might  well  have  felt  sure  of  success  and  feared  no  one. 
I  wished  I  could  feel  as  certain  of  his  sister,  and  I  hung 
up  my  cherry-bough  with  a  beating  heart,  as  if  she  were 
just  behind  the  door  all  read}^  to  fling  it  in  my  face. 

And  pale  I  was  when  the  door  opened ;  but  it  was 
Brulette  who  came  first,  and  gave  a  kiss  for  good-morning 
to  Pere  Bastien,  a  hand-shake  to  me,  and  a  ros}'  blush 
of  pleasure  to  Huriel,  though  she  did  not  venture  to  speak 
to  him. 

"  Oh,  father !  "  cried  Therence,  following  her  and  clasp- 
ing the  Head-Woodsman  in  her  arms;  "have  3'ou  been 
playing  the  3'oung  man  all  night  ?  Come,  come  in,  and  let 
me  give  you  some  breakfast.  But  first,  let  me  look  at 
those  nosegays.  Three,  Brulette  !  oh,  what  a  girl  you 
are !    is  the  procession  to  last  all  day  ?  " 


316  The  Bagpipers, 

"  Onl}^  two  for  Brulette,"  said  Huriel ;  "  the  third  is  for 
you,  sister ;  "  and  he  gave  her  my  cheny-bough,  so  full  of 
bloom  that  it  had  rained  a  white  shower  all  round  the 
door. 

"  For  me?  "  said  Th^rence,  surprised.  "  Then  3'ou  did 
it,  brother,  to  prevent  my  being  jealous  of  Brulette  ?  " 

''Brothers  are  not  so  gallant,"  said  Pere  Bastien. 
"Have  you  no  suspicion  of  a  timid  and  discreet  lover 
who  keeps  his  mouth  shut  instead  of  declaring  himself?  " 

Therence  looked  all  round  her  as  if  she  were  trying  to 
see  some  one  beside  me,  and  when  at  last  her  black  ej'es 
rested  on  m}''  discomfited  and  idiotic  face  I  thought  she 
was  going  to  laugh,  which  would  have  stabbed  me  to  the 
heart.  But  she  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  and  even 
blushed  a  little.  Then,  holding  out  her  hand  she  said : 
*'  Thank  3^ou,  Tiennet ;  3^ou  have  shown  that  3'ou  remem- 
ber me,  and  I  accept  the  gift  without  giving  it  other 
meaning  than  belongs  to  a  nosegay." 

"Well,"  said  Pere  Bastien,  "if  3'ou  accept  it,  my 
daughter,  j^ou  must  follow  the  usual  custom,  and  fasten 
a  spray  of  it  to  your  coif." 

"  No,"  said  Therence,  "that  might  displease  some  of 
the  girls  hereabouts,  and  I  don't  want  m}-  good  Tiennet  to 
repent  of  having  done  me  a  kindness." 

"  Oh,  that  won't  displease  anybod}^"  I  cried  ;  "  if  it 
does  not  annoy  you,  it  would  hugely  please  me." 

"  So  be  it !  "  she  said,  breaking  off  a  little  twig  of  my 
flowers,  which  she  fastened  with  a  pin  to  her  head.  "  We 
are  here  in  the  Chassin,  Tiennet ;  if  we  were  in  j^our  part 
of  the  countr}'  I  should  be  more  careful,  for  fear  of  getting 
3'ou  into  trouble  with  some  compatriot." 

"  You  can  get  me  into  trouble  with  all  of  them,  The- 
rence," I  said  ;  "  I  ask  nothing  better." 


The  Bagpipers,  317 

"  As  for  that,"  she  repUed,  "  3'ou  go  too  fast.  I  don't 
know  3'ou  well  enough,  Tiennet,  to  say  if  it  would  be  well 
for  either  of  us."  Then  changing  the  subject  with  that  for- 
getfulness  of  herself  which  came  so  naturally  to  her,  she 
said  to  Brulette :  "  It  is  3'our  turn,  darling  ;  what  return 
are  you  going  to  make  for  your  two  May  bunches  ?  which 
of  them  is  to  deck  j-our  cap  ?  " 

"  Neither,  till  I  know  where  they  came  from,"  replied 
my  prudent  cousin.  "  Tell  me,  Huriel,  and  keep  me  from 
makinsr  a  mistake." 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Huriel,  '  except  that  this  is 
mine." 

"  Then  I  shall  carry  it  whole,"  she  said,  taking  it  down, 
"  and  as  to  that  bunch  of  water-flowers,  they  must  feel 
very  much  out  of  place  on  a  door.  I  think  they  will  be 
happier  in  the  moat." 

So  saying,  she  adorned  her  cap  and  the  front  of  her 
dress  with  Huriel's  flowers,  and  took  the  rest  into  her 
room  ;  then,  returning,  she  was  about  to  throw  the  lilies 
into  the  old  moat  which  separated  the  courtyard  from  the 
park,  when  Huriel,  unwilling  that  such  an  insult  should  be 
offered  to  his  rival,  stopped  her  hand.  At  this  moment 
the  sound  of  a  bagpipe  came  from  the  shrubbery  which 
closed  the  little  court  in  front  of  us,  and  some  one,  who 
had  been  near  enough  to  hear  every  word  that  had  passed, 
played  Pere  Bastien's  air  of  the  "  Three  Woodsmen." 

He  plaj-ed  it  first  as  we  knew  it,  next  a  little  differently, 
in  a  softer  and  sadder  way,  then  changing  it  through- 
out, varying  the  ke3's,  adding  music  of  his  own,  which 
was  not  less  beautiful,  and  even  seemed  to  sigh  and  to 
entreat  in  so  tender  a  manner  that  we  who  heard  it  could 
hardl}'  help  being  touched  with  compassion.  At  last  the 
player  took  a  stronger  and  louder  tone,  —  as  though  it 


318  The  Bagpipers. 

were  a  song  of  reproach  and  authority,  and  Brulette,  who 
had  gone  to  the  edge  of  the  moat  intending  to  fling  away 
the  hlies,  drew  back  as  if  terrified  by  the  anger  which 
was  expressed  in  the  sounds.  Then  Josepli,  shoving  aside 
the  bushes  with  his  feet  and  shoulders,  appeared  on  the 
other  side  of  the  moat,  still  piping,  his  eyes  blazing,  and 
seeming,  both  by  his  looks  and  by  his  music,  to  threaten 
Brulette  with  some  great  disaster  if  she  did  not  desist 
from  the  insult  she  was  about  to  offer  him. 


The  Bagpipers,  319 


TWENTY-SEVENTH   EVENING. 

4 

^'  Noble  music  and  a  fine  pla3'er,"  cried  Pere  Bastien, 
clapping  his  hands  when  the  sounds  ceased.  "That  is 
both  good  and  beautiful,  Joseph ;  it  is  easj'  to  console 
yourself  for  everything  when  you  have  the  ball  at  3^our 
feet  in  that  way.     Come  over  here,  and  let  us  compliment 

you." 

"  Nothing  consoles  for  an  insult,  master,"  replied  Joseph  ; 
"  and  for  the  rest  of  my  days  there  will  be  a  ditch  full  of 
thorns  between  Brulette  and  me  if  she  throws  my  offering 
into  that  moat." 

"Heaven  forbid,"  cried  Brulette,  "that  I  should  make 
such  an  ill  return  for  the  beautiful  nosega3^  Come  over 
here,  Jose  ;  there  need  be  no  thorns  between  us  but  those 
you  plant  yourself." 

Joseph  sprang  into  the  courtyard,  bursting  like  a  wild 
boar  through  the  hue  of  thick-set  brambles  which  divided 
him  from  the  moat,  and  darting  across  the  green  slime 
which  filled  the  bottom  of  it ;  then  snatching  the  flowers 
from  Brulette's  hand,  he  pulled  out  several,  which  he  tried 
to  fasten  on  her  head  beside  Huriel's  pink  and  white  haw- 
thorn-blossoms. He  did  it  with  an  air  of  authority,  as 
though  he  had  a  right  to  exercise  his  will.  But  Brulette 
stopped  him,  sa3'ing  :  — 

"  One  moment,  Joseph  ;  I  have  an  idea  of  m^-  own,  and 
you  must  submit  to  it.  You  will  soon  be  received  into  the 
bagpipers'  guild  ;  now  God  has  given  me  a  sense  of  music, 
enough  to  let  me  understand  something  of  it  without  ever 


320  The  Bagpipers, 

having  learned.  I  've  a  fanc}^  to  have  a  competition  here, 
and  to  reward  the  one  who  pla3's  best.  Give  3'our  bag- 
pipe to  Huriel,  and  let  him  make  his  trial  just  as  3^ou 
have  now  made  yours." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  agree  to  that  entirely,"  cried  Joseph, 
whose  face  shone  with  defiance.  "  It  is  your  turn,  Huriel ; 
make  the  buck-skin  warble  like  the  throat  of  a  nightingale, 
if  3^ou  can  !  " 

"  That  was  not  in  our  agreement,  Joseph,"  answered 
Huriel.  "  You  agreed  that  I  should  speak,  and  I  have 
spoken.  I  agreed  to  leave  music,  in  which  you  excel  me, 
to  you.  Take  back  3'our  bagpipe,  and  speak  again  in  your 
own  language  ;  no  one  here  will  wearv  of  hearing  3'ou." 

"  As  you  own  yourself  vanquished,"  returned  Joseph, 
"  I  shall  pla3'  no  more,  unless  Brulette  requests  it." 

"  Pla3^,"  she  said ;  and  while  he  pla3'ed  in  a  marvellous 
way,  she  wove  a  garland  of  white  lihes  and  tied  it  with  the 
silver  ribbon  that  bound  the  bunch.  When  the  music 
ended  she  went  up  to  Joseph  and  twisted  the  wreath  about 
the  pipe  of  his  instrument,  sa3'ing, — 

"Jose,  noblest  piper,  I  receive  thee  into  the  guild,  and 
give  thee  the  prize.  Ma3'  this  wreath  bring  thee  happi- 
ness and  glory,  and  prove  to  thee  the  high  esteem  in  which 
I  hold  thy  great  talents." 

"  Yes,  that 's  all  ver3^  well,"  said  Joseph.  "  Thank  3'ou, 
my  Brulette  ;  now  complete  m3^  happiness  and  make  me 
prouder  still  by  wearing  one  of  the  flowers  3'ou  give  me. 
Select  the  finest  and  put  it  next  3'Our  heart,  if  3'Ou  will  not 
wear  it  on  your  head." 

Brulette  smiled  and  blushed,  beautiful  as  an  angel ;  then 
she  looked  at  Huriel,  who  turned  pale,  thinking  it  was  all 
over  with  him. 

"  Joseph,"  she  answered,  "  I  ha.ve  granted  3'OU  the  first 


The  Bagpipers.  321 

of  all  triumphs,  that  of  music.  You  must  be  satisfied,  and 
cease  to  ask  for  that  of  love,  which  is  not  won  by  strength 
or  knowledge,  but  by  the  will  of  the  good  God." 

Huriel's  face  lighted,  Joseph's  darkened. 

"  Brulette,"  he  cried,  "  God's  will  must  be  as  my  will !  " 

"  Gently,"  she  said,  "He  alone  is  master;  and  here  is 
one  of  his  little  angels,  who  must  not  hear  words  against 
our  holy  religion." 

As  she  spoke  she  took  Chariot,  who  caifle  bounding 
after  her  like  a  lamb  to  its  mother,  into  her  arms. 
Therence,  who  returned  to  her  room  while  Joseph  was 
playing,  had  just  taken  him  up,  and  the  child,  without 
letting  himself  be  dressed,  had  run  out  half-naked  to  kiss 
his  darhng,  as  he  called  Brulette,  with  a  jealous  and 
masterful  air  which  contrasted  amusingly  with  that  of  the 
lovers. 

Joseph,  who  had  forgotten  his  suspicions,  concluding  he 
was  duped  by  young  Carnat's  letter,  drew  back  on  seeing 
Chariot  as  though  the  child  were  a  snake ;  and  as  he 
watched  him  kissing  Brulette  eagerly  and  calling  her 
"  mamma"  and  "  Chariot's  darling,"  a  mist  came  over  his 
eyes  and  he  well-nigh  swooned  away  ;  but  almost  immedi- 
ately he  sprang  in  a  burst  of  anger  toward  the  child,  and 
clutching  him  brutally,  cried  out  in  a  choking  voice : 
"  Here's  the  truth  at  last !  This  is  the  trick  that  has  been 
played  upon  me,  and  the  master}'  of  love  that  has  defeated 
me !  " 

Brulette,  frightened  by  Joseph's  violence  and  Chariot's 
cries,  tried  to  rescue  the  child ;  but  Joseph,  quite  beside 
himself,  pulled  him  away,  laughing  savagely  and  sa3'ing  he 
wanted  to  look  at  him  with  all  his  ej^es  and  see  the  resem- 
blance ;  so  doing  he  nearly  choked  the  child,  without  mean- 
ing it,  to  Bruiette's  horror,  and  she,  not  daring  to  add  to 

21 


322  The  Bagpipers, 

the  boy's  danger  by  attempting  to  rescue  him,  turned 
back  to  Huriel,  cr3'ing,  — 

' '  My  child,  my  child  !  he  is  killing  m}-  poor  child  !  " 

Huriel  made  but  one  stride ;  catching  Joseph  by  the 
nape  of  the  neck,  he  held  him  so  tightl}-  and  firmly  that 
his  arms  relaxed  and  I  caught  Chariot  from  him  and  gave 
the  half  unconscious  child  back  to  Brulette. 

Joseph  nearly  fainted  too,  as  much  from  the  violence  of 
his  anger  as  from  the  wa}'  in  which  Huriel  had  handled 
him.  A  fight  would  certainly  have  followed  (and  the 
Head-Woodsman  had  alread}'  flung  himself  between  them) 
if  Joseph  had  understood  what  was  happening ;  but  he 
was  unable  to  consider  anything  except  that  Brulette  was 
a  mother,  and  that  both  she  and  we  had  deceived  him. 

"  You  no  longer  hide  it?  "  he  said  to  her,  in  a  choking 
voice. 

'^  What  are  you  saying  to  me?  '*  asked  Brulette,  who  was 
sitting  on  the  grass,  all  in  tears,  and  trying  to  ease  the 
bruises  on  Chariot's  arms;  "  3'ou  are  a  wicked  madman, 
I  know  that.  Don't  come  near  me,  and  never  harm  this 
child  again  or  God  will  curse  you." 

*' One  word,  Brulette,"  said  Joseph;  "  if  3'ou  are  his 
mother,  confess  it.  I  will  pity  and  forgive  3'ou ;  in  fact, 
I  will  even  defend  3'ou,  if  necessary.  But  if  3'ou  can  only 
den3''  it  b3''  a  lie  —  I  shall  despise  3'Ou,  and  forget  3'Ou." 

"His  mother?  I,  his  mother?"  cried  Brulette,  spring- 
ing up  as  if  to  cast  off  Chariot.  "  You  think  I  am  his 
mother?"  she  said  again,  taking  back  the  poor  child,  the 
cause  of  all  the  trouble,  and  pressing  him  to  her  heart. 
Then  she  looked  about  her  with  a  bewildered  air,  and  her 
e3^es  sought  Huriel.  "  Can  it  be  possible,"  she  cried, 
''that  any  one  could  think  such  a  thing  of  me?" 

''  The  proof  that  no  one  thinks  it,"  cried  Huriel,  going 


The  Bagpipers.  323 

up  to  her  and  kissing  Chariot,  "  is  that  we  love  the  child 
whom  you  love." 

**  Say  something  better  than  that,  brother,"  cried  The- 
rence,  eagerly.  "Say  what  you  said  to  me  yesterday: 
'  Whether  the  child  is  hers  or  not,  he  shall  be  mine,  if  she 
will  be  mine.'  " 

Brnlette  flung  both  arms  round  Huriel's  neck  and  hung 
there  like  a  vine  to  an  oak. 

"  Be  m}'  master,  then,"  she  said ;  "  I  never  had,  and  I 
never  will  have  another  than  you." 

Joseph  watched  this  sudden  understanding,  of  which  he 
was  the  cause,  with  an  anguish  and  regret  that  were  ter- 
rible to  see.  The  cry  of  truth  in  Brulette's  words  had 
convinced  him,  and  he  fancied  he  had  dreamed  the  wrong 
he  had  just  done  her.  He  felt  that  all  was  over  between 
them,  and  without  a  word  he  picked  up  his  bagpipe  and 
fled  awa}'. 

Pere  Bastien  ran  after  him  and  brought  him  back, 
saying :  — 

"  No,  no,  that  is  not  the  way  to  part  after  a  lifelong 
friendship.  Bring  down  3'our  pride,  Joseph,  and  ask 
pardon  of  this  honest  girl.  She  is  my  daughter,  their 
word  is  now  pledged,  and  I  am  glad  of  it ;  but  she  must 
remain  your  sister.  A  woman  forgives  a  brother  for  what 
she  could  never  pardon  in  a  lover." 

"  She  may  pardon  me  if  she  can  and  if  she  will,"  said 
Joseph ;  "but  if  I  am  guilty,  I  can  receive  no  absolution 
but  my  own.  Hate  me,  Brulette ;  that  may  be  best  for 
me.  I  see  I  have  done  the  one  thing  that  was  needed  to 
lose  3^our  regard.  I  can  never  get  it  back ;  but  if 
you  pit}"  me,  don't  tell  me  so.  I  ask  nothing  further  of 
you." 

"  All  this  would  not  have  happened,"  said  Brulette,  "  if 


324  The  Bagpipers. 

you  had  done  your  diitj',  which  was  to  go  and  see  3' our 
mother.  Go  now,  Josepli ;  but,  above  all,  don't  tell 
her  what  you  have  accused  me  of.  She  would  die  of 
grief." 

"  My  dear  daughter,"  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  still 
detaining  Joseph,  "I  think  we  do  better  not  to  scold 
children  until  their  minds  are  quiet.  Otherwise,  the^^  take 
things  crookedty  and  do  not  profit  by  rebuke.  To  my 
thinking  Joseph  has  times  of  aberration  ;  and  if  he  does 
not  make  honorable  amends  as  readily  as  others  do,  it  is 
perhaps  because  he  feels  his  wrong-doing  and  suffers  more 
from  his  own  self-blame  than  from  the  blame  of  others. 
Set  him  an  example  of  good  sense  and  kindness.  It  is 
not  difficult  to  forgive  when  we  are  happ3',  and  3'ou  ought 
to  be  content  to  be  loved  as  you  are  here.  More  love  you 
could  not  have  ;  for  I  now  know  things  of  3'ou  which  make 
me  hold  3^ou  in  such  esteem  that  here  are  a  pair  of  hands 
that  will  wring  the  neck  of  whoever  insults  you  deliber- 
ateh^  But  that  was  not  the  nature  of  Joseph's  insult, 
which  came  from  excitement,  not  reflection,  and  shame 
followed  so  swiftly  that  his  heart  is  now  making  3'ou  full 
reparation.  Come,  Joseph,  add  3^our  word  to  mine  ;  I  ask 
no  more  than  that  of  you ;  and  Brulette  too,  will  be 
satisfied,  will  3'ou  not,  m3'  daughter?  " 

"  You  don't  know  him,  father,  if  3'Ou  think  he  will  say 
that  word,"  replied  Brulette;  "but  I  won't  exact  it,  be- 
cause I  want,  above  all  things,  to  satisf3'  3'Ou.  And  so, 
Joseph,  I  forgive  3'ou,  though  3'Ou  don't  care  much  about 
that.  Sta3'  and  breakfast  with  us,  and  talk  about  some- 
thing else  ;   what  has  happened  is  forgotten." 

Joseph  said  not  a  word,  but  he  took  off  his  hat  and  laid 
down  his  stick  as  if  meaning  to  stay.  The  two  girls  re- 
entered the  house  to  prepare  the  meal,  and  Huriel,  who 


The  Bagpipers.  325 

took  great  care  of  his  horse,  began  to  groom  and  curry- 
comb him.  I  looked  after  Chariot,  whom  Brulette  handed 
over  to  m}"  keeping ;  and  the  Head- Woodsman,  wishing 
to  divert  Joseph's  mind,  talked  music,  and  praised  the 
variations  he  had  given  to  his  song. 

"  Never  speak  to  me  of  that  song  again,"  said  Joseph ; 
"it  can  onl}"  remind  me  of  painful  things,  and  I  wish  to 
forget  it." 

"Well  then,"  said  Pere  Bastien,  "  plaj'  me  something 
of  3'our  own  composition,  here  and  now,  just  as  the  thought 
comes  to  you." 

Joseph  led  the  wa}''  into  the  park,  and  we  heard  him  in 
the  distance  playing  such  sad  and  plaintive  airs  that 
his  soul  seemed  reall}^  prostrate  with  contrition  and 
repentance. 

"Do  3'ou  hear  him?"  I  said  to  Brulette;  "that  is 
certainl}-  his  waj"  of  confessing,  and  if  sorrow  is  a  repara- 
tion, he  gives  you  of  his  best." 

"  I  don't  think  there  is  a  very  tender  heart  beneath 
that  rough  pride  of  his,"  replied  Brulette.  "  I  feel,  just 
now,  like  Therence ;  a  little  tenderness  is  more  attractive 
to  me  than  much  talent.  But  I  forgive  him ;  and  if  my 
pit}'  is  not  as  great  as  Joseph  wants  to  make  it  by  his  mu- 
sic, it  is  because  I  know  he  has  a  consolation  of  which  my 
indifference  cannot  deprive  him,  —  I  mean  the  admiration 
which  he  and  others  feel  for  his  talents.  If  Joseph  did 
not  care  for  that  more  than  for  love  or  friendship,  his 
tongue  would  not  now  be  dumb  and  his  e^-e  dry  to  the 
reproof  of  friendship.  He  is  quite  capable  of  asking  for 
what  he  wants." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  returning  alone 
from  the  park,  "did  you  hear  him,  my  children?  He 
said  all  he  could  and  would  say,  and,  satisfied  to  have 


326  The  Bagpipers. 

drawn  tears  from  my  old  eyes,  he  has  gone  away  tran- 
quillized." 

"  But  you  could  not  keep  him  to  breakfast/'  said  The- 
rence,  smiling. 

''  No,"  answered  her  father;  "  he  pla3'ed  too  well  not 
to  be  three  parts  comforted ;  and  he  prefers  to  go  away 
in  that  mood,  rather  than  after  some  folly  he  might  be 
led  into  saying  or  doing  at  table." 


The  Bagpipers,  327 


TWENTY-EIGHTH  EVENING. 

We  ate  our  meal  in  peace,  feeling  relieved  of  the  appre- 
hensions of  the  night  before  as  to  the  quarrel  between 
Joseph  and  Huriel :  and,  as  Therence  plainly  showed, 
both  in  Joseph's  presence  and  in  his  absence,  that  she  had 
no  feeling,  good  or  ill,  about  the  past,  I  indulged,  as  did 
Huriel  and  Pore  Bastien,  in  tranquil  and  j03'ous  thoughts. 
Chariot,  finding  that  everybody  petted  him,  began  to  for- 
get the  man  who  had  frightened  and  bruised  him.  Every 
now  and  then  he  would  start  and  look  behind  him  at  some 
trifling  noise,  but  Therence  laughingly  assured  him  the 
man  was  safely  gone  and  would  not  return.  We  seemed 
like  a  famil}^  part}',  and  I  thought  to  m3'self,  while  courting 
Therence  with  the  utmost  deference,  that  I  would  make 
m}'  love  less  imperious  and  more  patient  than  Joseph's. 

Brulette  seemed  anxious  and  overcome,  as  though  cut 
to  the  heart  by  a  foul  blow.  Huriel  was  uneas}'  about  her, 
but  the  Head- Woodsman,  who  knew  the  human  soul  in  all 
its  windings,  and  who  was  so  good  that  his  face  and  his 
words  poured  balm  into  every  wound,  took  her  little  hands 
in  his  and  drew  her  prett}'  head  to  his  breast,  saying,  at 
the  end  of  the  meal :  — 

"  Brulette,  we  have  one  thing  to  ask  of  you,  and  though 
3'ou  look  so  sad  and  disti'essed,  my  son  and  I  will  venture 
to  make  our  request  now.  Won't  you  give  us  a  smile  of 
encouragement  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is,  father,  and  I  will  obey  you,"  an- 
swered Brulette. 


328  The  Bagpijjers. 

"  Well,  my  daughter,  it  is  that  3'ou  will  present  us  to- 
morrow to  3'our  grandfather,  so  that  he  may  be  asked  to 
accept  Huriel  as  a  grandson." 

"  Oh,  it  is  too  soon,  father,"  cried  Brulette,  shedding  a 
few  more  tears,  "  or  rather,  it  is  too  late  ;  if  you  had  told 
me  to  do  so  an  hour  ago,  before  Joseph  uttered  those 
words,  I  would  gladl}'  have  consented.  But  now,  I  con- 
fess, I  should  be  ashamed  to  accept  so  readily  the  love  of 
an  honest  man,  when  I  find  I  am  no  longer  supposed  to 
be  an  honest  girl.  I  knew  I  had  been  blamed  for  co- 
quetr3^  Your  son  himself  twitted  me  about  it  a  3'ear  ago. 
Therence  blamed  me,  —  though,  for  all  that,  she  gave  me 
her  friendship.  So,  seeing  that  Huriel  had  the  courage  to 
leave  me  without  asldng  for  an^'thing,  I*' made  a  great 
man}'  reflections  in  m}^  own  mind.  The  good  God  helped 
me  by  sending  me  this  child,  whom  I  did  not  like  at  first 
and  might  possibly  have  rejected,  if  my  sense  of  duty  had 
not  been  mixed  with  a  sort  of  idea  that  I  should  be  better 
worthy  of  being  loved  through  a  little  suffering  and  self- 
denial  than  for  nn'  chatter  and  m}^  pretty'  clothes.  I 
thought  I  could  atone  for  my  thoughtless  3ears  and  tram- 
ple my  love  for  m}'  own  little  person  underfoot.  I  knew 
that  I  was  criticised  and  neglected,  but  I  consoled  myself 
with  the  thought :  '  If  he  comes  back  to  me  he  will  know 
that  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  blamed  for  getting  serious  and 
sensible.'  But  now  I  have  heard  something  ver3^  different, 
parti}'  through  Joseph's  conduct,  partl3'  b3'  Therence's  re- 
mark. It  was  not  Joseph  onl3^  who  thought  I  had  gone 
astray,  but  Huriel  also,  or  his  great  heart  and  his  strong 
love  would  have  had  no  need  to  sa3'  to  his  sister  3'ester- 
da3' :  '  Guilt3'  or  not  guilt3',  I  love  her,  and  will  take  her  as 
she  is.'  Ah,  Huriel !  I  thank  you  ;  but  I  will  not  let  3'ou 
marr3'  we  till  you  know  me.     I  should  suffer  too  much  to 


The  Bagpipers.  329 

see  3'0ii  blamed,  as  you  doubtless  would  be,  on  my  ac- 
count. I  respect  you  too  much  to  let  it  be  said  that  you 
take  upon  yourself  the  paternity  of  a  foundling.  I  must 
indeed  have  been  light  in  my  behavior,  or  such  an  accusa- 
tion could  never  have  been  made  against  me !  Well,  I 
wish  you  to  judge  me  now  b}'  my  every-day  conduct ;  I 
want  3'ou  to  be  sure  that  I  am  not  onl)'  a  gay  dancer 
at  a  wedding  but  the  good  guardian  of  my  duty  in  my 
home.^  We  will  come  and  live  here,  as  you  desire  it ; 
and  in  a  year  from  now,  if  I  am  not  able  to  prove  to 
you  that  m}'  care  of  Chariot  need  not  cause  me  to  blush, 
I  shall  at  least  have  given  you  by  m}'  actions  a  proof  that 
I  am  reasonable  in  mind  and  sound  in  conscience." 

Huriel  snatched  Brulette  from  his  father's  arms,  and 
reverently  kissed  the  tears  that  were  flowing  from  her 
beautiful  eyes ;  then  he  gave  her  back  to  Pere  Bastien, 
saying :  — 

'^  Bless  her,  my  father  ;  for  you  can  now  judge  if  I  told 
you  false  when  I  said  she  was  worth}'  of  your  blessing. 
The  dear  golden  tongue  has  spoken  well,  and  there  is  no 
answer  to  make  to  it,  unless  it  be  that  we  want  neither 
year  nor  day  of  trial,  but  desire  to  go  this  very  evening 
and  ask  her  of  her  grandfather;  for  to  pass  another 
night  still  doubtful  of  his  consent  is  more  than  I  can  bear, 
and  to  get  it  is  all  I  need  to  make  me  sovereign  of  the 
world." 

"  See  what  has  happened  to  3'ou  by  asking  for  a  res- 
pite," said  Pere  Bastien  to  Brulette.  "  Instead  of  asking 
your  grandfather  to-morrow,  it  seems  it  must  be  to-night. 
Come,  my' child,  yon  must  submit ;  it  is  the  punishment  of 
your  naught}"  conduct  in  times  gone  by. 

Contentment  overspread  her  sweet  face,  and  the  hurt  she 
had  received  from  Joseph  was  forgotten.     However,  just 


330  The  Bagpipers, 

as  we  left  the  table,  another  hesitation  seized  her.  Chariot, 
hearing  Huriel  address  the  Head- Woodsman  as  father, 
called  him  so  himself,  and  was  kissed  and  fondled  for  it, 
but  Brulette  was  a  trifle  vexed.  ^ 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  best,"  she  said,  "to  take  the  trouble 
to  invent  parents  for  the  poor  child  ;  ever}^  time  he  calls 
me  mother  it  seems  like  a  stab  to  those  I  love." 

We  were  beginning  to  reassure  her  on  this  point  when 
Therence  said:  "Speak  low;  some  one  is  listening  to 
us  ;  "  and  following  her  glance  toward  the  porch,  we  saw 
the  end  of  a  stick  resting  on  the  ground,  and  the  bulging 
side  of  a  full  sack,  showing  that  a  beggar  was  there,  wait- 
ing till  some  one  took  notice  of  him,  and  hearing  things 
that  he  ought  not  to  hear. 

I  went  up  to  the  intruder  and  recognized  Brother  Nico- 
las, who  came  forward  at  once  and  admitted  without  hesi- 
tation that  he  had  been  listening  for  the  last  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  had  been  very  well  pleased  with  what  he  had 
heard. 

"  I  thought  I  knew  Huriel's  voice,"  he  said,  "  but  I  so 
little  expected  to  find  him  on  m}'  rounds  that  I  should 
not  have  been  certain,  ray  dear  friends,  that  it  was  he,  but 
for  some  things  which  you  have  been  saying,  in  which,  as 
Brulette  knows,  I  have  a  right  to  intrude." 

"  We  know  it  too,"  said  Huriel. 

"  Do  3'ou?  "  exclaimed  the  monk.  "  Well,  that 's  as  it 
should  be." 

"And  the  reason  is,"  said  Huriel  to  Brulette,  "that 
your  aunt  told  me  everything  last  night.  So  you  see, 
dearest,  I  don't  deserve  all  the  credit  you  give  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Brulette,  much  comforted,  "but  yesterday 
morning!  Well,  since  everything  is  known,"  she  added, 
turning  to  the  monk,  "what  do  3'ou  advise  me  to  do, 


The  Bagpipers,  331 

Brother  Nicolas  ?  You  have  been  employed  on  Chariot's 
account ;  can't  you  find  some  story  to  spread  about  to 
cover  the  secret  of  his  parentage  and  repair  the  harm 
done  to  my  reputation  ?  " 

"Story?"  said  the  friar.  "I,  advise  and  abet  a  lie? 
I  am  not  one  of  those  who  damn  their  souls  for  the  love  of 
the  young  girls,  my  little  one.  I  should  gain  nothing  by 
it.  You  must  be  helped  some  other  way ;  and  I  have 
alread}' been  working  at,  it  more  than  3'ou  think.  Have 
patience  ;  all  will  come  out  right,  as  it  did  in  another  mat- 
ter, where,  as  Maitre  Huriel  knows,  I  have  not  been  a  bad 
friend  to  him." 

"I  know  that  I  owe  you  the  peace  and  safety  of  my 
life,"  said  Huriel.  "People  may  say  what  they  like  of 
monks,  I  know  one,  at  least,  for  whom  I  would  be  drawn 
and  quartered.  Sit  down.  Brother,  and  spend  the  day 
with  us.  What  is  ours  is  yours,  and  the  house  we  are  in 
is  3'ours  too." 

Therence  and  the  Head- Woodsman  were  showing  their 
hospitalit}'  to  the  good  friar,  when  my  aunt  Marghitonne 
came  hurrying  up,  and  would  not  let  us  stay  anywhere  but 
with  her.  She  said  the  wedding  party  were  going  to  per- 
form the  "  cabbage  ceremony  ;  "  which  ia  an  old-fashioned 
foolery  practised  the  da}^  after  the  marriage  ;  the  proces- 
sion, she  said,  was  already  forming  and  was  coming  round 
our  wa}'.  The  company  drank,  and  sang,  and  danced  at 
each  stopping-place.  It  was  impossible  for  Therence  now 
to  keep  aloof,  and  she  accepted  my  arm  to  go  and  meet 
the_crowd,  while  Huriel  escorted  Brulette.  My  aunt  took 
charge  of  the  little  one,  and  the  Head- Woodsman  marched 
off  with  the  monk,  who  was  easily  persuaded  into  joining 
a  jovial  company. 

The  fellow  who  plaj^ed  the  part  of  gardener,  or  as  we 


332  The  Bagpipers. 

still  say  among  us,  the  pagan,  seated  on  a  hand-barrow, 
was  decorated  in  a  style  that  astonished  every bod}^  He 
had  picked  up  near  the  park  a  beautiful  garland  of  water- 
lilies  tied  with  a  silver  ribbon,  which  he  had  bound  about 
his  flaxen  poll.  It  did  n't  take  us  much  time  to  recognize 
Joseph's  bunch,  which  he  had  dropped  or  thrown  away 
on  leaving  us.  The  ribbons  were  the  envy  of  all  the  girls 
of  the  party,  who  deliberated  how  to  get  possession  of 
them  unspoiled  ;  at  last,  flinging  themselves  on  the  pagan, 
they  snatched  them  away  from  \\\m  and  divided  the  booty, 
though  in  defending  himself  he  managed  to  kiss  more  than 
one  with  a  mouth  that  was  covered  with  foam.  So  scraps 
of  Joseph's  ribbon  glittered  all  day  in  the  caps  of  the  pret- 
tiest girls  in  the  neighborhood,  and  came  to  a  much  better 
end  than  their  owner  thought  for  when  he  left  his  bunch 
in  the  dust  of  the  road. 

This  farce,  pla^'ed  from  door  to  door  through  the  village, 
was  as  crazy  as  usual,  ending  with  a  fine  repast  and  dancing 
till  twilight.  After  which,  we  all  took  leave,  Brulette  and 
I,  the  Head- Woodsman,  Therence,  and  Huriel,  and  started 
for  Nohant,  with  the  monk  at  our  head,  leading  the  dairin^ 
on  which  Chariot  was  perched,  tips}"  with  excitement  at 
what  he  had  seen,  laughing  like  a  monkey,  and  trying 
to  sing  as  he  had  heard  others  do  all  that  da}'. 

Though  the  young  people  of  the  present  age  have  de- 
generated wofiilly,  you  must  often  have  seen  girls  in  their 
teens  tramping  fifteen  miles  in  the  morning  and  as  much 
more  in  the  evening  in  the  hottest  weather,  for  a  day's 
dancing,  and  so  you  can  easily  believe  that  w^e  arrived  at 
home  without  fatigue.  Indeed,  we  danced  part  of  the  way 
along  the  road,  we  four  ;  the  Head- Woodsman  playing  his 
bagpipe,  and  the  friar  declaring  we  were  crazy,  but  clapping 
his  hands  to  excite  us  on. 


The  Bagpipers.  833 

"V7e  reached  Brulette's  door  about  ten  at  night,  and 
found  Pere  Brulet  sound  asleep  in  his  bed.  As  he  was 
quite  deaf  and  slept  hard,  Brulette  put  the  baby  to  bed, 
served  us  a  little  collation,  and  consulted  with  us  whether 
to  wake  him  before  he  had  finished  his  first  nap.  How- 
ever, turning  over  on  his  side,  he  saw  the  light,  recognized 
his  granddaughter  and  me,  seemed  surprised  at  the  others, 
and  sitting  up  in  bed  as  sober  as  a  judge,  listened  to  a 
statement  the  Head- Woodsman  made  to  him  in  a  few 
words,  spoken  rather  loud  but  ver}'  civill}'.  The  monk, 
in  whom  Pere  Brulet  had  the  utmost  confidence,  followed 
in  praise  of  the  Huriel  famil}^,  and  Huriel  himself  declared 
his  wishes  and  all  his  good  intentions  both  present  and 
to  come. 

Pere  Brulet  listened  without  saying  a  word,  and  I  be- 
gan to  fear  he  had  not  understood ;  but  no  such  thing ; 
though  he  seemed  to  be  dreaming,  his  mind  was  really 
quite  clear,  and  he  presentlj'  answered  discreetly  that  he 
recognized  in  the  Head-Woodsman  the  son  of  a  former 
friend  ;  that  he  held  the  family  in  much  esteem,  and  con- 
sidered Brother  Nicolas  as  worth}^  of  all  confidence ; 
and,  above  all,  he  trusted  in  the  sense  and  good  judgment 
of  his  granddaughter.  Then  he  went  on  to  say  that  she 
had  not  delayed  her  choice  and  refused  the  best  ofifers  of 
the  neighborhood  to  commit  a  folly  in  the  end,  and  that 
if  she  wished  to  marry  Huriel,  Huriel  would  certainly  be 
a  good  husband. 

He  spoke  in  a  collected  manner :  3'et  his  memor}^  failed 
him  on  one  point,  which  he  recalled  soon  after,  as  we  were 
about  to  take  leave,  namel_y,  that  Huriel  was  a  muleteer. 

"  That  is  the  only  thing  that  troubles  me,"  he  said. 
"  My  girl  will  be  so  lonely  at  home  by  herself  for  three- 
quarters  of  the  year." 


334  The  Bagpipers. 

We  satisfied  him  at  once  with  the  news  that  Huriel  had 
left  the  craft  and  become  a  woodsman  ;  and  thereupon  he 
readily  agreed  to  the  plan  of  working  in  the  woods  of 
Chassin  during  the  summer  months. 

We  parted,  all  well  pleased  with  one  another.  The- 
rence  stayed  with  Brulette,  and  I  took  the  others  to  my 
own  house. 

We  learned  the  next  evening,  through  the  monk,  who 
had  been  begging  about  all  day,  that  Joseph  had  not 
gone  near  the  village  of  Nohant,  but  had  spent  an  hour 
with  his  mother  at  Saint-Chartier,  after  which  he  started 
to  go  round  the  neighborhood  and  collect  all  the  bagpipers 
for  a  meeting,  at  which  he  would  demand  a  competition 
for  admission  to  the  craft  and  the  right  to  practise  the 
calling.  Mariton  was  much  troubled  by  this  determina- 
tion, believing  that  the  Carnats,  father  and  son,  and  all 
the  bagpipers  of  the  country  round,  who  were  already 
more  in  number  than  were  needed,  would  oppose  it  and 
cause  him  both  trouble  and  injur3\  But  Joseph  would 
not  listen  to  her,  still  saying  that  he  was  resolved  to  get 
her  out  of  service  and  take  her  to  some  distant  place  to 
live  with  him,  though  she  seemed  not  as  much  inclined  to 
that  idea  as  he  had  hoped. 

On  the  third  da}',  all  our  preparations  having  been 
made,  and  Huriel  and  Brulette's  first  banns  published  in 
the  parish  church,  we  started  to  return  to  Chassin.  It 
was  like  departing  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  We  were  obliged  to  cany  furniture,  for  Brulette 
was  determined  that  her  grandfather  should  lack  for  noth- 
ing ;  so  a  cart  was  hired  and  the  whole  village  opened 
its  ej^es  very  wide  to  see  the  entire  contents  of  the  house 
going  off,  even  to  the  baskets.  The  goats  and  the  hens 
went  too,  for  Therence  was  delighted  at  the  idea  of  taking 


TJie  Bagpipers,  335 

care  of  them  ;  never  having  known  how  to  manage  ani- 
mals, she  wanted  to  learn,  as  she  said,  when  the  opportu- 
nity offered.  This  gave  me  the  chance  to  propose  m3'self 
in  jest  for  her  management,  as  the  most  docile  and  faithful 
animal  of  the  flock.  She  was  not  annojed,  but  gave  me 
no  encouragement  to  pass  from  jest  to  earnest.  Only,  it 
did  seem  to  me  that  she  was  not  displeased  to  find  me 
cheerfully  leaving  home  and  family  to  follow  her ;  and 
that  if  she  did  little  to  attract  me  she  certainly  did  still 
less  to  repulse  me. 

Just  as  old  Brulet  and  the  women,  with  Chariot,  were 
getting  into  the  cart  (Brulette  very  proud  of  going  off 
with  such  a  handsome  lover,  in  the  teeth  of  all  the 
lovers  who  had  misjudged  her),  the  friar  came  up  to  say 
good-bye,  adding  for  the  benefit  of  inquisitive  ears  :  "  As 
I  am  going  over  to  your  parts,  I  '11  ride  a  bit  of  the  way 
with  3'ou." 

He  got  up  beside  Pere  Brulet,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
third  mile,  in  a  shady  road,  he  asked  to  be  set  down. 
Huriel  was  leading  the  dairin,  which  was  a  good  draught 
horse  as  well  as  a  pack  horse,  and  the  Head- Woodsman 
and  I  walked  in  front.  Seeing  that  the  cart  lagged  behind, 
we  turned  back,  thinking  there  might  have  been  an  acci- 
dent, and  found  Brulette  in  tears,  kissing  Chariot,  who 
clung  to  her  screaming  because  the  friar  was  endeavoring 
to  carry  him  off.  Huriel  interceded  against  it,  for  he 
was  so  troubled  at  Brulette's  tears  that  he  came  near 
crying  himself. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  said  Pere  Bastien.  "  Wh}^  do 
you  wish  to  send  away  the  child,  m}'  daughter?  Is  it  be- 
cause of  the  notion  you  expressed  the  other  day  ?  " 

"No,  father,"  replied  Brulette,  "his  real  parents  have 
sent  for  him,  and  it  is  for  his  good  to  go.     The  poor  little 


336  The  Bagpipers, 

fellow  can't  understand  that ;  and  even  I,  though  I  do 
understand  it,  my  heart  fails  me.  But  as  there  are  good 
reasons  why  the  thing  should  be  done  without  delay,  give 
me  courage  instead  of  taking  it  away  from  me." 

Though  talking  of  courage  she  had  none  at  all  against 
Chariot's  tears  and  kisses,  for  she  had  reall}"  come  to  love 
him  with  much  tenderness  ;  so  Therence  was  called  in  to 
help  her.  Every  look  and  tone  of  the  woodland  girl  con- 
ve3'ed  such  a  sense  of  her  loving-kindness  that  the  stones 
themselves  would  have  been  persuaded,  and  the  child  feit 
it,  though  he  did  not  know  wh}'.  She  succeeded  in  paci- 
fying him,  making  him  understand  that  Brulette  was  leav- 
ing him  for  a  short  time  only,  so  that  Brother  Nicolas 
was  able  to  carry  him  off  without  using  force ;  and  the 
pair  disappeared  to  the  tune  of  a  sort  of  rondo  which  the 
monk  sang  to  divert  his  charge,  though  it  was  more  like 
a  church  chant  than  a  song.  But  Chariot  was  pleased, 
and  when  their  voices  were  lost  in  the  distance  that  of  the 
monk  had  drowned  his  expiring  moans. 

"  Come,  Brulette,  start  on,"  said  Pere  Bastien.  "We 
love  you  so  well  we  can  soon  console  you." 

Huriel  jumped  on  the  shaft  to  be  near  her,  and  talked 
to  her  so  gently  all  the  wa}^  that  she  said  to  him  just  be- 
fore we  arrived  :  "  Don't  think  me  inconsolable,  my  true 
friend.  My  heart  failed  me  for  a  second ;  but  I  know 
where  to  turn  the  love  I  felt  for  that  child,  and  where  I 
shall  find  the  happiness  he  gave  me." 

It  did  not  take  us  long  to  settle  down  in  the  old  castle 
and  even  to  feel  at  home  in  it.  There  were  several  habit- 
able chambers,  though  they  hardly  looked  so,  and  at  first 
we  thought  them  likely  to  fall  about  our  heads.  But 
the  ruins  had  so  long  been  shaken  by  the  wind  without 
collapsing  that  we  felt  the}'  might  outlast  our  time. 


The  Bagpipers.  337 

Aunt  Margbitonne,  delighted  to  have  us  near  her,  fur- 
nished the  household  with  the  various  little  comforts  to 
which  we  were  accustomed,  and  which  the  Huriel  family 
were  coaxed  with  some  difficulty  into  sharing  with  us,  for 
they  were  not  used  to  such  things  and  cared  very  little 
for  them.  The  Bourbonnais  wood-cutters,  whom  the  Head- 
Woodsman  had  engaged,  arrived  dul}',  and  he  hired  others 
in  the  neighborhood.  So  that  we  made  quite  a  colony, 
quartered  partly'  in  the  village  and  partly  in  the  ruins, 
working  cheerfully  under  the  rule  of  a  just  man,  who  knew 
what  it  was  to  spare  over-work  and  to  reward  the  willing 
workman,  and  assembling  everj^  iright  in  the  courtyard  for 
the  evening  meal ;  relating  stories  and  listening  to  them  ; 
singing  and  frolicking  in  the  open  air,  and  dancing  on 
Sundays  with  all  the  lads  and  lasses  of  the  neighborhood, 
who  were  glad  enough  to  get  our  Bourbonnais  music,  and 
who  brought  us  little  gifts  from  all  parts,  showing  us  a  deal 
of  attention. 

The  work  was  hard  on  account  of  the  steep  slopes  on 
which  the  forest  grew,  which  rose  straight  from  the  river, 
and  made  the  felling  a  very  dangerous  matter.  I  had  had 
experience  of  the  quick  temper  of  the  Head- Woodsman  in 
the  woods  of  Alien.  As  he  was  emplo3'ing  none  but  choice 
workmen  for  the  felling,  and  the  choppers  understood  the 
cutting  up,  nothing  happened  to  irritate  him  ;  but  I  was 
ambitious  to  become  a  first-class  chopper  in  order  to  please 
him,  and  I  dreaded  lest  my  want  of  practice  should  once 
more  make  him  call  me  unhand}^  and  imprudent,  which 
would  have  mortified  me  cruelly  in  presence  of  Therence. 
So  I  begged  Huriel  to  take  me  apart  and  show  me  how  to 
work  and  to  let  me  watch  him  at  the  business.  He  was 
quite  willing  to  oblige  me,  and  I  went  at  it  with  such  a 
will  that  before  long  I  surprised  the  master  himself  by  my 

22 


338  The  Bagpipers. 

ability.  He  praised  me,  and  even  asked  me  before  his 
daughter  why  I  took  hold  so  valiantl}'  of  a  business  I  had 
no  occasion  for  in  my  own  countr3\  ''  Because,"  I  replied, 
"  I  am  not  sorry  to  know  how  to  earn  my  living  wherever 
I  am.  Who  knows  what  may  happen?  If  I  loved  a  womjui 
who  wanted  me  to  live  in  the  depths  of  the  woods,  I  could 
follow  her,  and  support  her  there  as  elsewhere." 

To  prove  to  Therence  I  was  not  so  self-indulgent  as 
perhaps  she  thought,  I  practised  sleeping  on  the  bare 
ground,  and  living  frugalh' ;  trying  to  become  as  hardy  a 
forester  as  the  rest  of  them.  I  did  not  find  myself  any 
the  worse  for  it ;  in  fact  I  felt  that  m}'  mind  grew  more 
active  and  m}^  thoughts  clearer.  Man}'  things  that  I  did 
not  at  first  understand  without  long  explanations,  unrav- 
elled themselves  little  hy  little,  of  their  own  accord,  so 
that  Therence  had  no  longer  any  occasion  to  smile  at  my 
stupid  questions.  She  talked  to  me  without  getting  weary 
and  appeared  to  feel  confidence  in  my  judgment. 

Still,  a  full  fortnight  went  by  before  I  felt  the  slightest 
hope  of  success ;  though  when  I  bemoaned  mjself  to 
Huriel  that  I  dared  not  sa}'  a  word  to  a  girl  who  seemed 
so  far  above  me  that  she  could  never  so  much  as  look 
at  me,  he  replied,  — 

"  Don't  worr}-,  Tiennet ;  m}'  sister  has  the  truest  heart 
in  existence  ;  and  if,  like  all  3'oung  girls,  she  has  her 
fanciful  moments,  there  is  no  fanc}^  in  her  head  which 
will  not  yield  to  the  love  of  a  noble  truth  and  an  honest 
devotion." 

His  father  said  the  same,  and  together  they  lent  me 
courage  ;  and  Tlierence  found  me  so  good  an  attendant, 
I  watched  so  closely  that  no  pain,  fatigue,  or  annoj^ance 
should  touch  her  from  any  cause  within  my  power  to 
control,  and  I  was  so  careful  never  to  look  at  another 


The  Bagpipers,  339 

girl,  —  indeed  I  had  little  desire  to,  —  in  short,  I  behaved 
myself  with  such  honest  respect,  showing  her  plainly  on 
what  a  pinnacle  I  set  her,  that  her  eyes  began  to  open  ; 
and  several  times  I  saw  her  watch  how  I  went  beforehand 
of  her  wishes  with  a  softened,  reflective  look,  and  then 
reward  me  with  thanks  of  which,  I  can  tell  you,  I  was 
proud  enough.  She  was  not  accustomed,  like  Brulette, 
to  have  her  wishes  anticipated,  and  would  never  have 
known,  like  her,  how  to  encourage  it  prettily.  She  seemed 
surprised  that  anj'  one  thought  of  her ;  and  when  it  did 
happen,  she  showed  such  a  sense  of  obligation  that  I 
never  felt  at  my  ease  wlien  she  said  to  me  with  her  serious 
air  and  guileless  frankness,  "  Really,  Tiennet,  you  are 
too  kind,"  or  perhaps,  "  Tiennet,  you  take  too  much 
trouble  for  me ;  I  wish  I  could  take  as  much  for  you 
some  day." 

One  morning  she  was  speaking  to  me  in  this  way  before 
a  number  of  woodcutters,  and  one  of  them,  a  handsome 
Bourbonnais  lad,  remarked  in  a  low  tone  that  she  showed 
a  deal  of  interest  in  me. 

"  Certainly  I  do,  Leonard,"  she  replied,  looking  at  him 
with  a  confident  air.  Ijr  I  feel  the  interest  that  is  due  to 
him  for  all  his  kindness  and  friendship  to  me  and  mine." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  ever\'  one  would  do  as  he  does," 
remarked  Leonard,  ''  if  they  thought  they  would  be  paid 
in  the  same  coin?" 

''  I  would  try  to  be  just  to  everj'body,"  she  replied, 
"  if  I  felt  a  liking  or  a  need  for  everybody's  attentions. 
But  I  don't ;  and  to  one  of  my  disposition  the  friendship 
of  one  person  suffices." 

I  was  sitting  on  the  turf  beside  her  as  she  said  this, 

and  I  took  her  hand  in  mine,  without  daring  to  retain  it 

,  more  than  a  second.     She  drew  it  away,  but  as  she  did 


340  The  Bagpipers. 

so  she  let  it  rest  a  moment  on  m}^  shoulder  in  sign  of 
confidence  and  relationship  of  soul. 

Plowever,  things  still  went  on  in  this  wa}',  and  I  began 
to  suffer  greatly  from  the  reserve  between  us,  —  all  the 
more  because  the  lovers  Huriel  and  Brulette  were  so  tender 
and  happy,  and  the  contrast  grieved  m}'  heart  and  troubled 
my  spirit.  Their  day  of  joy  was  coming,  but  mine  was 
not  within  sight. 


Tlie  Bagpijjers.  341 


TWENTY-NINTH   EVENING. 

One  Sunda}"  —  it  was  that  of  the  last  publication  of 
Brulette's  banns  —  the  Head- Woodsman  and  his  son,  who 
had  seemed  all  day  to  be  consulting  privately,  went  off 
together,  saj'ing  that  a  matter  connected  with  the  marriage 
called  them  to  Nohant.  Brulette,  who  knew  all  about  the 
arrangements  for  her  wedding,  was  a  good  deal  surprised 
at  their  sudden  activitj*,  and  still  more  that  the}'  told  her 
nothing  about  it.  She  was  even  inclined  to  pout  at  Huriel, 
who  said  he  should  be  absent  for  twenty-four  hours  ;  but 
he  would  not  3'ield,  and  managed  to  pacify  her  b}'  letting 
her  think  he  was  onl}'  going  on  her  business  and  planning 
to  give  her  some  pleasant  surprise. 

But  Therence,  whom  I  watched  narrowl}',  seemed  to 
me  to  make  an  effort  to  hide  her  uneasiness,  and  as  soon 
as  her  father  and  Huriel  had  started,  she  carried  me  off 
into  the  little  park  and  said  :  — 

"  Tiennet,  I  am  worried  to  death,  and  I  don't  know 
what  can  be  done  to  remed}^  matters.  Listen  to  what 
has  happened,  and  tell  me  if  we  can  do  anything  to  pre- 
vent harm.  Last  night  as  I  lay  awake  I  heard  my  father 
and  brother  agreeing  to  go  and  protect  Joseph,  and  from 
what  they  said  I  made  out  that  Joseph,  though  very  ill- 
received  by  the  bagpipers  of  3'our  parts,  to  whom  he  ap- 
plied for  admission  to  the  guild,  is  determined  to  insist 
on  admittance,  —  a  thing  that  they  dare  not  refuse  him 
openly  without  having  put  his  talents  to  the  test.  It 
appears  that   the   3'ounger   Carnat  has  also  applied  lor 


342  The  Bagpipers, 

admittance  in  place  of  his  father,  who  retires  ;  and  his 
trial  was  to  take  place  before  the  corporation  this  verj- 
day  ;  so  that  Joseph  has  put  himself  forward  to  interfere 
with  a  claim  that  was  not  to  be  contested,  and  which  was 
promised  and  half-granted  in  advance.  Now,  some  of 
our  wood-cutters  who  frequent  the  wine-shops  have  over- 
heard certain  wicked  plans  which  the  bagpipers  of  your 
neighborhood  are  making ;  for  the}^  are  resolved  to  eject 
Joseph,  if  the}'  can,  by  sneering  at  his  music.  If  there 
was  no  greater  risk  than  his  having  to  bear  injustice  and 
defeat,  I  should  not  be  so  uneas}"  as  3'ou  see  me  ;  but  my 
father  and  brother,  wlio  belong  to  the  guild  and  have  a 
voice  in  all  proceedings,  feci  it  their  duty  to  be  present 
at  this  competition  solely  to  protect  Joseph.  And,  more 
than  that,  there  was  something  I  could  not  make  out, 
because  the  guild  have  certain  secret  terms  among  them- 
selves which  my  father  and  brother  used,  and  which  I  did 
not  understand.  But  however  one  looks  at  it,  I  am  sure 
they  are  going  into  danger,  for  they  carried  under  their 
blouses  those  little  single-sticks,  the  harm  of  which  you 
have  already  seen,  and  the}"  even  sharpened  their  pruning- 
hooks  and  hid  them  under  their  clothes,  saying  to  each 
other  early  this  morning,  '  Tlie  devil  is  in  that  lad ;  he 
can  neither  be  happy  himself  nor  let  others  be.  We  must 
protect  him,  however ;  though  he  is  obstinately  rusliing 
among  the  wolves,  without  tliinking  of  his  own  skin  or 
that  of  others.'  My  brotlicr  complained,  sa3'ing  he  did 
not  want  to  break  anybody's  head  or  have  his  own  broken 
just  as  he  was  going  to  be  married.  To  which  my  father 
replied  that  there  was  no  use  in  anticipating  evil ;  what  one 
had  to  do  was  to  go  where  humanity  required  us  to  help 
our  neighbor.  As  they  named  Leonard  among  those  who 
had  overheard  the  malicious  talk,  I  questioned  him  hastily 


The  Bagpipers,  343 

just  now,  and  he  told  me  that  Joseph,  and  consequently 
those  who  support  him,  have  been  threatened  for  a  week 
or  more,  and  that  your  bagpipers  talk  of  not  onl}'  refusing 
him  admittance  at  this  competition,  but  also  of  depriving 
him  of  the  wish  and  the  power  to  tr^'  again.  I  know,  from 
having  heard  it  spoken  of  as  a  child  when  m}'  brother  was 
admitted,  that  the  candidates  must  behave  boldh'  and  en- 
dure all  sorts  of  trials  of  their  strength  and  courage.  With 
us,  the  bagpipers  lead  a  wandering  life  and  do  not  make 
their  music  so  much  of  a  business  as  yours  do ;  therefore 
they  don't  stand  in  each  other's  way  and  never  persecute 
the  candidates.  It  seems,  from  what  Leonard  told  me 
and  from  m}'  father's  preparations,  that  here  it  is  different, 
and  that  such  matters  end  in  fights  which  last  till  one  or 
the  other  side  gives  up.  Help  me,  Tiennet,  for  I  am  half- 
dead  with  fear  and  anxiety.  I  dare  not  rouse  our  wood- 
cutters ;  if  m V  father  thought  I  had  overheard  and  betrayed 
the  secrets  of  the  guild  he  would  deny  me  all  trust  and 
confidence  in  future.  He  expects  me  to  be  as  brave  as 
an}'  woman  can  be  in  danger ;  but  ever  since  that  dreadful 
Malzac  affair,  I  own  to  you  I  have  no  courage  at  all,  and 
that  I  am  tempted  to  fling  myself  into  the  middle  of  the 
fight,  so  much  do  I  dread  the  results  for  those  I  love." 

"  And  A-ou  call  that  want  of  courage,  m}'  brave  girl?  "  I 
replied.  "  Xow  don't  be  troubled  and  leave  me  to  act. 
The  devil  will  be  very  cunning  if  I  can't  discover  for  mj''- 
self,  without  suspicion  falling  on  you,  what  those  bagpipers 
are  about ;  and  if  3'our  father  blames  me,  if  he  even  drives 
me  away  and  refuses  the  happiness  I  have  been  hoping  to 
win,  —  I  shall  not  care,  Therence  !  So  long  as  I  bring 
him  or  send  him  safe  back  to  3'ou,  and  Huriel  also,  I  shall 
have  m}'  reward  even  if  I  never  see  you  again.  Good- 
bye ;  don't  give  way  to  anxiety  ;  sa^^  nothing  to  Brulette, 


314:  The  Bagpipers. 

for  she  would  lose  her  head.  I  know  what  should  be 
done.  Look  as  if  you  knew  nothing.  I  take  it  all  on  my 
shoulders." 

Therence  flung  herself  on  my  breast  and  kissed  me  on 
both  cheeks  with  the  innocence  of  a  pure  girl ;  so,  filled  to 
the  brim  with  courage  and  confidence,  I  went  to  work. 

I  began  b}'  finding  LJonard,  whom  I  knew  to  be  a  good 
fellow,  verj'  bold  and  strong,  and  much  attached  to  Pere 
Bastien.  Though  he  was  rather  jealous  of  me  on  the 
score  of  Therence,  he  entered  into  my  scheme,  and  I 
questioned  him  as  to  the  number  of  bagpipers  who  were  to 
meet  for  the  competition,  and  the  place  where  we  could 
watch  the  assembl3\  He  could  not  tell  me  anything  un- 
der the  first  head  ;  as  to  the  second  he  knew  that  the  trial 
was  not  to  be  in  secret,  and  the  place  appointed  was 
Saint-Chartier,  in  Benoit's  tavern,  an  hour  after  vespers. 
The  deliberation  on  the  merits  of  the  candidates  was  all 
that  was  to  be  held  in  secret,  and  even  that  was  to  be  in 
the  same  house,  and  the  decision  was  to  be  rendered  in 
public. 

I  thought  of  half  a  dozen  resolute  lads  fulty  able  to 
keep  the  peace  if,  as  Therence  feared,  the  matter  should 
end  in  a  quarrel ;  and  I  felt  that  justice  being  on  our  side, 
plenty  of  other  fellows  would  come  forward  to  support  us. 
So  I  chose  four  who  consented  to  follow  me,  —  making, 
with  Leonard  and  myself,  six  in  all.  Thej'  hesitated  only 
on  one  point,  —  the  fear  of  displeasing  their  master,  the 
Head- Woodsman,  b}^  giving  him  help  he  had  never  asked 
for ;  but  I  swore  to  them  that  he  should  never  know  that 
they  gave  it  deliberately,  for  we  could  easily  pretend  we 
were  there  by  accident,  and  then,  if  any  one  were  blamed, 
the}^  could  throw  it  all  on  me,  who  had  asked  them  there 
to  drink  without  then"  knowing  what  was  going  on. 


The  Bagpipers.  345 

So  it  was  all  agreed,  and  I  went  to  tell  Therence  that  we 
were  fully  prepared  against  every  danger.  After  which 
we  started,  each  carrying  a  stout  cudgel,  and  reached 
Saint-Chartier  at  the  hour  named. 

Benoit's  wine-shop  was  so  full  there  was  no  turning 
round  in  it,  and  we  were  obliged  to  take  a  table  outside. 
Indeed  I  was  not  sorry  to  leave  m}'  contingent  there 
(exhorting  them  not  to  get  drunk),  and  to  slip  myself  into 
the  shop,  where  I  counted  sixteen  professional  bagpipers, 
without  reckoning  Huriel  and  his  father,  who  were  sitting 
at  table  in  a  dark  corner  with  their  hats  over  their  e3'es, 
and  all  the  less  likely  to  be  recognized  because  few  of 
those  present  had  met  them  in  our  parts.  I  pretended  not 
to  see  them,  and  speaking  so  that  the}^  could  hear  me,  I 
asked  Benoit  what  this  meeting  of  bagpipers  was  for,  as 
if  I  had  not  heard  a  word  about  it,  and  did  not  under- 
stand its  object. 

"  Why,  don't  3'ou  know,"  said  the  host,  who  was  getting 
over  his  illness  but  was  pallid  and  much  reduced,  "  that 
your  old  friend  Joseph,  the  son  of  ni}^  housekeeper,  is 
going  to  compete  with  Carnat's  son  ?  I  must  say  it  is  great 
folly  on  his  part,"  added  Benoit,  lowering  his  voice.  "  His 
mother  is  much  distressed,  and  fears  the  ill-will  that  grows 
out  of  these  competitions.  Indeed,  she  is  so  troubled 
that  she  has  lost  her  head,  and  the  customers  are  com- 
plaining, for  the  first  time,  that  she  does  not  serve  them 
properl}'." 

"Can  I  help  you?"  I  said,  glad  to  get  a  reason  for 
sta3ing  inside  and  going  about  among  the  tables. 

"  Faith,  my  boy,"  he  replied,  ''  if  3'ou  reall}'  mean  it, 
you  can  do  me  good  service ;  for  I  don't  deny  that  I  am 
still  pretty  weak,  and  I  can't  stoop  to  draw  the  wine  with- 
out getting  gidd3\     Here  is  the  key  of  the  cellar.     Take 


346  The  Bagpipers. 

charge  of  filling  and  bringing  in  the  jugs.  I  hope  that 
Mariton  and  her  scullions  can  do  the  rest." 

I  did  n't  need  telling  twice  ;  I  ran  out  for  an  instant  to 
tell  my  companions  of  the  emplo3'ment  I  had  taken  for  the 
good  of  the  cause,  and  then  I  went  to  work  as  tapster, 
which  enabled  me  to  see  and  hear  everything. 

Joseph  and  the  3^ounger  Carnat  were  at  either  end  of  a 
long  table  feasting  the  guild,  each  taking  the  guests  half- 
way down.  There  was  more  noise  than  pleasure  going  on. 
The  company  were  shouting  and  singing  to  avoid  talking, 
for  they  were  all  on  the  defensive,  and  it  was  eas}*  to  feel 
the  jealousies  and  self-interests  heaving  below.  I  soon 
observed  that  all  the  bagpipers  were  not,  as  I  had  feared, 
in  favor  of  the  Carnats  against  Joseph ;  for,  no  matter 
how  well  a  guild  is  managed,  there  are  always  old  grudges 
which  set  members  by  the  ears.  But  I  also  saw,  little 
by  little,  that  there  was  no  comfort  for  Joseph  in  this, 
because  those  who  did  not  want  his  rival,  wanted  him 
still  less,  and  hoped  to  get  the  number  of  professional 
bagpipers  lessened  b\"  the  retirement  of  old  Carnat. 
I  even  fancied  that  the  greater  number  thought  in  this 
way,  and  I  concluded  that  both  candidates  would  be 
rejected. 

After  feasting  for  about  two  hours,  the  competition 
began.  Silence  was  not  demanded ;  for  bagpipes  in  a 
room  are  instruments  that  don't  trouble  themselves  about 
other  noises,  and  the  shouters  and  talkers  soon  gave  up 
the  contest.  A  crowd  of  people  pressed  in  from  outside. 
M}'  five  comrades  climbed  on  the  open  window  sill,  and  I 
went  and  stood  near  them.  Iluriel  and  his  father  did  not 
stir  from  their  corner.  Carnat,*^  who  drew  the  lot  to  begin, 
mounted  the  bread-box  and,  encouraged  b}'  his  father, 
who  could  not  restrain  himself  from  beating  time  with  his 


The  Bagpipers,  847 

sabots,  pla3'ed  for  half  an  hour  on  the  old-fashioned  bag- 
pipe of  the  country  with  its  narrow  wind-bag. 

He  played  very  badl}',  being  much  agitated,  and  I  saw 
that  this  pleased  the  greater  part  of  the  bagpipers.  They 
kept  silence,  as  they  alwaj's  did,  so  as  to  seem  solemn  and 
important,  but  others  present  kept  silence  too.  This  hurt 
the  poor  fellow,  who  had  hoped  for  a  little  encouragement, 
and  his  father  began  to  growl,  and  to  show  his  revengeful 
and  malicious  nature. 

When  Joseph's  turn  came,  he  tore  himself  away  from 
his  mother,  who  was  still  entreating  him  in  a  low  voice 
not  to  compete.  He,  too,  mounted  the  box,  holding  his 
great  Bourbonnaise  bagpipe  with  great  ease,  the  which 
quite  dazzled  the  eyes  of  all  present  with  its  silver  orna- 
ments, its  bits  of  looking-glassj  and  the  great  length  of 
its  pipes.  Joseph  carried  himself  proudly,  looking  round 
contemptuously  on  those  who  were  to  hear  him.  Everj^- 
one  noticed  his  good  looks,  and  the  young  fellows  about 
asked  if  he  could  really  be  "  Jose  the  dullard,"  whom  they 
had  once  thought  so  stupid,  and  seen  so  puny.  But  his 
haughty  air  disgusted  everybod}',  and  as  soon  as  the  sound 
of  his  instrument  filled  the  room  there  was  more  fear  than 
pleasure  in  the  curiosity  he  excited. 

Nevertheless,  there  were  present  persons  who  knew 
good  music,  particularly  the  choir  of  the  parish  church 
and  the  hemp-spinners,  who  are  great  judges,  and  even 
elderly  women,  guardians  of  the  good  things  of  the  past ; 
and  among  such  as  these  Joseph's  music  was  quickly 
accepted,  as  much  for  the  eas}'  manner  in  which  he  used 
his  instrument  as  for  the  good  taste  he  displa^'ed  and  the 
correct  rendering  which  he  gave  to  the  new  and  ver}'  beau- 
tiful airs  he  played.  A  remark  being  made  b}'  the  Carnats 
that  his  bagpipe,  having  a  fuller  sound,  gave  him  an  ad- 


348  The  Bagpipers. 

vantage,  he  unscrewed  it  and  used  only  the  chanter,  which 
he  placed  so  well  that  the  music  was  even  more  delightful 
than  before.  Finally',  he  took  Carnat's  old  fashioned  bag- 
pipe, and  played  it  so  cleverly  that  any  one  would  have 
said  it  was  another  instrument  than  the  one  first  used. 

The  judges  said  nothing  ;  but  all  others  present  trembled 
with  pleasure  and  applauded  vehemently,  declaring  that 
nothing  so  fine  had  ever  been  heard  in  our  parts  ;  and  old 
mother  Bline  de  la  Breuille,  who  was  eighty-seven  j'ears 
old  and  neither  deaf  nor  dumb,  walked  up  to  the  table 
and  rapping  it  with  her  distaff  said  to  the  bagpipers,  with 
the  freedom  her  age  warranted  :  — 

"You  ma}'  make  faces  as  much  as  you  like  and  shake 
your  heads,  but  there  's  not  one  of  3'ou  can  play  against 
that  lad  ;  he  '11  be  talked  of  two  hundred  years  hence  ;  but 
all  3'our  names  will  be  forgotten  before  3'our  carcasses  are 
rotten  in  tlie  earth." 

Then  she  left  the  room,  saying  (as  did  all  present)  that 
if  the  bagpipers  rejected  Joseph  it  would  be  the  worst 
injustice  that  was  ever  done,  and  the  wickedest  jealous}' 
that  could  be  confessed. 

The  conclave  of  bagpipers  now  ascended  to  an  upper 
room,  and  I  hurried  to  open  the  door,  hoping  to  gather 
something  by  overhearing  what  they  said  to  each  other 
in  going  up  the  stairs.  The  last  to  enter  were  the  Head- 
Woodsman  and  his  son  ;  as  they  did  so,  Pere  Carnat, 
who  recognized  Huriel  from  having  seen  him  with  us  at 
the  midsummer  bonfire,  asked  what  they  wanted  and  b}' 
what  right  they  came  to  the  council. 

"  The  right  of  membership  in  j^our  guild,"  answered 
Pere  Bastien ;  ' '  and  if  you  doubt  it,  ask  us  the  usual 
questions,  or  try  us  with  an}-  music  you  like." 

On  this  they  were  allowed  to  enter  and  the  door  was 


The  Bagjnpers.  349 

shut.  I  tried  to  listen,  but  every  one  spoke  in  a  low 
voice,  and  I  could  not  be  sure  of  anything,  except  that 
they  recognized  the  right  of  the  two  strangers  to  be 
present,  and  that  they  were  deliberating  about  the  com- 
petition without  either  noise  or  dispute.  Through  a  crack 
in  the  door  I  could  see  that  they  divided  into  parties 
of  five  or  six,  exchanging  opinions  in  a  low  voice  before 
they  began  to  vote.  But  when  the  time  for  voting  came, 
one  of  the  bagpipers  looked  out  to  see  if  any  one  were 
listening,  and  I  was  forced  to  disappear  in  a  hurry  lest 
I  should  be  caught  in  a  position  which  would  put  me  to 
shame  without  an  excuse ;  for  I  certainly  could  not  say 
that  my  friends  were  in  danger  in  such  a  peaceful 
conclave. 

I  found  m}^  young  fellows  below,  sitting  at  table  with 
others  of  our  acquaintance,  who  were  toasting  and  compli- 
menting Joseph.  Carnat  the  younger  was  alone  and 
gloomy  in  a  corner,  —  forgotten  and  mortified.  The  monk 
was  there,  too,  in  the  chimney-corner,  inquiring  of  Mariton 
and  Benoit  what  was  going  on.  When  told  all  about  it 
he  came  up  to  the  long  table,  where  they  were  drinking 
with  Joseph,  and  asking  him  where  and  from  whom  he  had 
got  his  teaching. 

"  Friend  Joseph,"  said  he,  "  we  know  each  other,  you 
and  I,  and  I  wish  to  add  mj'  voice  to  the  applause  you 
are  now,  of  good  right,  receiving.  But  permit  me  to 
point  out  that  it  is  generous  as  well  as  wise  to  console  the 
vanquished,  and  that  in  3'our  place,  I  should  make 
friendly  advances  to  young  Carnat,  whom  I  see  over  there 
all  alone  and  very  sad." 

The  monk  spoke  so  as  to  be  heard  only  by  Joseph  and 
a  few  others  who  were  near  him,  and  I  thought  he  did  so 
as   mucn   out   of  kind-heartedness   as   by   instigation  of 


350  The  Bagpipers, 

Joseph's  mother,  who  wanted  the  Carnats  to  get  over 
their  aversion  to  her  son. 

This  appeal  to  Joseph's  generosity  flattered  his  vanity. 
"You  are  right,  Brother  Nicolas,"  he  said;  then,  in  a 
loud  voice,  he  called  to  young  Carnat :  — 

"  Come,  Fran9ois,  don't  sulk  at  your  friends.  You 
did  not  play  as  well  as  3'ou  know  how  to,  I  am  quite  sure. 
But  you  shall  have  your  revenge  another  time  ;  besides, 
judgment  is  not  given  yet.  So,  instead  of  turning  3"0ur 
back  on  us,  come  and  drink,  and  let  us  be  as  quiet  to- 
gether as  a  pair  of  oxen  yoked  to  a  cart." 

Everybody  approved  of  this  speech,  and  Carnat,  fearing 
to  seem  jealous,  accepted  the  offer  and  sat  down  near  him. 
So  far  so  good,  but  Joseph  could  not  keep  from  showing 
his  opinion  that  his  art  was  far  above  that  of  others,  and 
in  offering  civilities  to  his  rival  he  put  on  such  a  patroniz- 
ing manner  that  Carnat  was  more  hurt  than  ever. 

"  You  talk  as  if  you  were  alreadj'  elected,"  he  said, 
*'  and  it  is  no  such  thing.  It  is  not  always  for  the  skill 
of  the  fingers  and  the  cleverest  compositions  that  those 
who  know  what  they  are  about  select  a  man.  Sometimes 
they  choose  him  for  being  the  best-known  and  most 
respected  player  in  the  country,  for  that  makes  him  a 
good  comrade  to  the  rest  of  the  guild." 

'•Oh!  I  expect  that,"  returned  Joseph.  "I  have  been 
long  absent,  and  though  I  pique  myself  on  deserving  as 
much  respect  as  any  man,  yet  I  know  the}'  will  try  to  fall 
back  on  the  foolish  reason  that  I  am  little  known.  Well, 
I  don't  care  for  that,  Frangois  !  I  did  not  expect  to  find 
a  company  of  good  musicians  among  you,  capable  of 
judging  me  or  my  merits,  and  lovers  enough  of  true 
knowledge  to  prefer  my  talent  to  their  own  interests  and 
that  of  their  acquaintances.     All  that  I  wanted  was  to  be 


The  Bagpipers.  351 

heard  and  judged  by  m}'  mother  and  friends,  —  by  intelli- 
gent ears  and  reasonable  beings.  For  the  rest,  I  laugh  at 
3'our  screaming  and  bellowing  bagpipes,  aMd  I  must  sa}', 
God  forgive  me  !  that  I  shall  be  prouder  of  being  rejected 
than  accepted." 

The  monk  remarked  gently  that  he  was  not  speaking 
judiciousl}'.  "  You  should  not  challenge  the  judges  you 
demanded  of  3'our  own  free-will,"  he  said ;  "  pride  spoils 
the  highest  merit." 

"  Leave  him  his  pride,"  said  Carnat ;  "  I  am  not  jealous 
of  what  he  can  show.  He  ought  to  have  some  talent,  to 
cover  his  other  misfortunes.  Remember  the  old  saying : 
'  Good  player,  good  dupe.' " 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  said  Joseph,  setting 
down  his  glass  and  looking  the  other  in  the  e^'e. 

"I  am  not  obliged  to  tell  3'ou,"  said  Carnat;  "all 
the  others  understand  it." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  it,  and  as  you  are  speaking 
to  me  I  '11  call  yo\x  a  coward  if  3'ou  dare  not  explain 
}^ourself." 

"  Oh,  I  can  tell  3'ou  to  3^our  face,"  returned  Carnat ;  "it 
is  something  that  need  not  offend  3'ou  at  all,  for  perhaps 
it  is  no  more  3'our  fault  to  be  unluck3'  in  love  than  it  is 
mine  to  be  unlucky  to-night  in  music." 

"  Come,  come  ! "  said  one  of  the  young  men  who  were 
present;  "  let  Josette  alone.  She  has  found  some  one  to 
many  her,  and  that 's  enough  ;  it  is  nobody's  business." 

"It  is  m3'  opinion,"  said  another,  "  that  it  was  not 
Joseph  who  was  tricked  in  that  affair,  but  the  other  who 
is  going  to  shoulder  his  work." 

"Whom  are  3^ou  speaking  of?"  cried  Joseph,  as  if  his 
head  were  reeling.  ' '  Who  is  it  you  call  Josette  ?  What 
wicked  nonsense  are  3'ou  trying  on  me?" 


852  The  Bagpipers. 

"  Hold  your  tongues !  "  cried  Mariton,  turning  scarlet 
with  anger  and  grief,  as  she  always  did  when  Brulette  was 
attacked.  "  I  wish  your  wicked  tongues  were  torn  out 
and  nailed  to  the  church  door." 

''  Speak  lower,"  said  one  of  the  young  men  ;  "  yon  know 
that  Mariton  won't  allow  a  word  against  her  Jose's  fair 
friend.  All  beauties  uphold  each  other,  and  Mariton  is 
not  yet  so  old  but  what  she  has  a  voice  in  the  chapter." 

Joseph  was  puzzling  his  brains  to  know  whether  they 
were  blaming  or  ridiculing  him. 

''  Explain  it  to  me,"  he  said,  pulling  me  by  the  arm. 
"  Don't  leave  me  without  a  word  to  sa3\" 

I  was  just  going  to  meddle,  though  I  had  vowed  I 
would  n't  get  into  an}'  dispute  in  which  Pere  Bastien  and 
his  son  were  not  concerned,  when  Francois  Carnat  cut 
me  short.  "Nonsense!"  he  said  to  Joseph,  with  a 
sneer ;  "  Tiennet  can't  tell  3'ou  more  than  what  I  wrote 
you." 

''  That  is  what  you  are  talking  of,  is  it?"  said  Joseph. 
"Well,  I  swear  you  lie!  and  that  you  have  written  and 
signed  false  witness.     Never — " 

"Bravo!"  cried  Carnat.  "You  knew  how  to  make 
your  profit  out  of  my  letter !  and  if,  as  people  think,  \o\\ 
are  the  author  of  that  child,  you  have  not  been  such  a 
fool,  after  all,  in  getting  rid  of  your  property  to  a  friend,  — 
a  faithful  friend,  too,  for  there  he  is  upstairs,  looking 
after  your  interests  in  the  council.  But  if,  as  I  now  think, 
3'ou  came  into  these  parts  to  assert  your  right  to  the  child, 
which  was  refused,  that  accounts  for  a  queer  scene  which 
I  saw  from  a  distance  at  the  castle  of  Chassin  —  " 

' '  What  scene  ?  "  said  the  monk.  ' '  Let  me  tell  you, 
young  man,  that  I  too  may  have  witnessed  it,  and  I  want 
to  know  how  trul}'  3'ou  relate  the  things  that  3'Ou  see." 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  853 

"As  3'on  please,"  returncfl  Carnat.  '^I  will  tell  3'ou 
what  I  saw  with  1113'  own  ej'es,  without  hearing  a  word 
that  was  said  ;  and  3'ou  ma3'  explain  it  as  you  can.  You 
are  to  know,  the  rest  of  3'ou,  that  on  the  last  da3'  of  last 
month  Joseph  got  up  earl3^  in  the  morning  to  hang  his 
jMa3'  bunch  on  Brulette's  door ;  and  seeing  a  bab3'  about 
two  3'ears  old,  which  of  course  was  his,  he  wanted  no 
doubt  to  get  possession  of  it,  for  he  seized  it,  as  if  to  go 
off  with  it ;  and  then  began  a  sharp  dispute,  in  which  his 
friend  the  Bourbonnais  wood-cutter  (the  same  that  is  up- 
stairs now  with  his  father,  and  who  is  to  marr3'  Brulette 
next  Sunda3')  struck  him  Yiolentl3"  and  then  embraced 
the  mother  and  child ;  after  which  Joseph  was  gentty 
shoved  out  of  the  door  and  did  not  show  his  face  there 
again.  I  call  that  one  of  the  queerest  histories  I  ever 
knew.  Twist  it  as  3'ou  will,  it  still  remains  the  tale  of  a 
child  claimed  hy  two  fathers,  and  of  a  girl  who,  instead  of 
giving  herself  to  the  first  seducer,  kicks  him  awa3'  as  un- 
worth3'  or  incapable  of  bringing  up  the  child  of  their  loves." 

Instead  of  answering,  as  he  had  proposed  to  do.  Brother 
Nicolas  returned  to  the  chimne3',  and  talked  in  a  low 
voice,  bat  ver3'  eagerl3-,  with  Benoit.  Joseph  was  so  taken 
aback  at  the  interpretation  put  upon  a  matter  of  which, 
after  all,  he  did  not  know  the  real  meaning,  that  he 
looked  all  round  him  for  assistance,  and  as  Mariton  had 
rushed  from  the  room  like  a  craz3'  woman,  there  was  no 
one  but  me  to  put  down  Carnat.  The  latter's  speech 
had  created  some  astonishment,  but  no  one  thought  of 
defending  Brulette,  against  whom  the3^  still  felt  piqued. 
I  began  to  take  her  part ;  but  Carnat  interrupted  me  at 
the  first  word  :  — 

"Oh!  as  for  3'ou,"  he  said,  "no  one  accuses  3^ou.  I 
dare  sa3^  3'ou  pla3'ed  3'our  part  in  good  faith,  though  it  is 

23 


354  The  Bagpipers, 

known  that  you  were  used  to  deceive  people  by  bringing 
the  child  from  the  Bourbonilais.  But  joxx  are  so  simple, 
Tiennet,  3'ou  may  never  have  suspected  anything. — The 
devil  take  me ! "  he  continued,  addressing  the  company, 
"  if  that  fellow  is  n't  as  stupid  as  a  basket.  He  is  capable 
of  being  godfather  to  a  child  believing  all  the  while  they 
were  christening  a  clock.  He  probably  went  into  the 
Bourbonnais  to  fetch  this  godson  of  his,  who,  they  told 
him,  was  found  in  a  cabbage,  and  he  brought  it  back  in  a 
pilgrim's  sack.  In  fact  he  is  such  a  slave  and  good  cousin 
to  the  girl,  that  if  she  had  tried  to  make  him  believe  the 
boy  was  like  him  he  would  have  thought  so  too." 


The  Bagpipers,  355 


THIRTIETH   EVENING. 

There  was  no  use  in  protesting  and  getting  angry ;  the 
company  were  more  inclined  to  laugli  than  to  hsten,  for 
it  is  alwa3's  a  great  delight  to  misbehaving  fellows  to 
speak  ill  of  a  poor  girl.  They  make  haste  to  plunge  her 
in  the  mire,  reserving  the  right  to  deny  it  if  they  find  she 
is  innocent. 

In  the  midst  of  their  slanderous  speeches,  however,  a 
loud  voice,  slightl}'  weakened  by  illness  but  still  capable 
of  drowning  every  other  in  the  room,  made  itself  heard. 
It  was  that  of  the  master  of  the  tavern,  long  accustomed 
to  quell  the  dissensions  of  wine  and  the  hubbub  of 
junketing. 

*'  Hold  your  tongues,"  he  said,  "  and  listen  to  me,  or 
I  '11  turn  3'ou  out  this  moment,  if  I  never  open  the  house 
again.  Be  silent  about  an  honest  girl  whom  you  decry 
because  3'ou  have  all  found  her  too  virtuous.  As  to  the 
real  parents  of  the  child  who  has  given  rise  to  these  tales, 
tell  them  to  their  face  what  fault  you  find  with  them,  for 
here  they  are  before  3'ou.  Yes,"  he  continued,  drawing 
Mariton,  who  was  holding  Chariot  in  her  arms  and  weep- 
ing, up  to  him,  "  here  is  the  mother  of  m}"  heir,  and 
this  is  m}^  son  whom  I  recognize  by  my  marriage  to  this 
good  woman.  If  3'ou  ask  me  for  exact  dates,  I  shall  tell 
you  to  mind  your  own  business  ;  nevertheless,  to  any  who 
have  the  right  to  question  me,  I  will  show  deeds  which 
prove  that  I  have  alwa3's  recognized  the  child  as  mine, 


356  The  Bagpipers. 

and  that  his  mother  was  1113'  legitimate  wife  before  his 
birth,  though  the  matter  was  kept  secret." 

The  silence  of  astonishment  fell  on  everybodj^ ;  and 
Joseph,  who  had  risen  at  the  first  words,  stood  stock  still 
like  a  stone  image.  The  monk  who  noticed  the  doubt, 
shame,  and  anger  in  his  e3'es,  thought  best  to  add  further 
explanations.  He  told  us  that  Benoit  had  been  unable  to 
make  his  marriage  pubhc  because  of  the  opposition  of  a 
rich  relative,  who  had  lent  him  money  for  his  business, 
and  who  might  have  ruined  him  b}"  demanding  it  back. 
As  Mariton  feared  for  her  reputation,  specially  on  account 
of  her  son  Joseph,  the}^  had  concealed  Chariot's  birth  and 
had  put  him  to  nurse  at  Saint-Severe  ;  but,  at  the  end  of 
a  year  Mariton  had  found  him  so  ill-used  that  she  begged 
Brulette  to  take  charge  of  him,  thinking  that  no  one  else 
would  give  him  as  much  care.  She  had  not  foreseen  the 
harm  this  would  do  to  the  young  girl,  and  when  she  did 
find  it  out,  she  wished  to  remove  the  child,  but  Benoit's 
illness  had  prevented  her  doing  so,  and  moreover  Brulette 
had  become  so  attached  to  Chariot  that  she  would  not  part 
with  him. 

"Yes!"  cried  Mariton,  "poor  dear  soul  that  she  is, 
she  proved  her  courage  for  me.  '  You  will  have  trouble 
enough,'  she  said  to  me,  '  if  you  lose  3'our  husband  ;  and, 
perhaps  3^our  marriage  will  be  questioned  b3'  the  familv. 
He  is  too  ill  to  trouble  him  now  about  declaring  it.  Have 
patience  ; -don't  kill  him  b3' talking  of  your  afl^airs.  Ever3'- 
thing  will  come  right  if  God  grant  that  he  recovers.'  " 

"  And  if  I  have  recovered,"  added  Benoit,  "it  is  by 
the  care  of  this  good  woman,  m3^  wife,  and  the  kind- 
heartedness  of  the  3^oung  girl  in  question,  who  patiently 
endured  both  blame  and  insult  rather  than  cause  me  injurv 
at  that  time  hy  exposing  our  secrets.     And  here  is  another 


The  Bagpipers.  357 

faithful  friend,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  monk,  —  "a 
man  of  sense,  of  action,  and  of  honest  speech,  an  old  school 
friend  of  mine  in  the  daj's  when  I  was  educating  at  Mont- 
lu9on.  He  it  was  who  went  after  xny  old  devil  of  an 
uncle,  and  who  at  last,  no  later  than  this  morning,  per- 
suaded him  to  consent  to  my  marriage  with  my  good 
housekeeper ;  and  when  my  uncle  had  given  his  word  to 
make  me  heir  to  his  whole  property'.  Brother  Nicolas 
told  him  the  priest  had  already  joined  Mariton  and  me, 
and  showed  him  that  fat  Chariot,  whom  he  thought  a  fine 
bo}'  and  very  like  the  author  of  his  existence." 

Benoit's  satisfaction  revived  the  lost  gaj^  et}'  of  the  party  ; 
every  one  was  struck  with  the  resemblance,  which,  how- 
ever, no  one  had  yet  noticed,  —  I  as  little  as  an}'. 

"  So,  Joseph,"  continued  the  innkeeper,  "  you  can  and 
ought  to  love  and  respect  your  mother,  just  as  I  love  and 
respect  her,  I  take  m}'  oath  here  and  now  that  she  is  the 
bravest  and  most  helpful  Christian  woman  that  ever  a  sick 
man  had  about  him  ;  and  I  have  never  had  a  moment's 
hesitation  in  my  resolve  to  declare  sooner  or  later  what  I 
have  declared  to-day.  We  are  now  very  well  off  in  our 
worldly  affairs,  thank  God,  and  as  I  swore  to  her  and  to 
God  that  I  would  replace  the  father  you  lost,  I  will  agree, 
If  you  will  live  here  with  us,  to  take  3'ou  into  partnership 
and  to  give  you  a  good  share  of  the  profits.'  So  you 
need  n't  fling  yourself  into  bagpiping,  in  which  your  mother 
sees  all  sorts  of  ills  for  3'ou  and  anxieties  for  her.  Your 
notion  was  to  get  her  a  home.  That 's  m}^  affair  now,  and 
I  even  offer  to  make  hers  yours.  Come,  3'ou  '11  listen  to 
us,  won't  you,  and  give  up  that  damned  music?  Why 
can't  you  live  in  3'our  own  country  and  stay  at  home? 
You  need  n't  blush  at  having  an  honest  innkeeper  for  a 
step-father." 


358  The  Bagpipers. 

*' You  are  my  step-father,  that's  ver}^  certain,"  replied 
Joseph,  not  showing  either  pleasure  or  displeasure,  but 
remaining  coldlj^  on  the  defensive;  "  3'ou  are  an  honest 
man,  I  know,  and  rich,  I  see,  and  if  my  mother  is  happ}^ 
with  you  —  " 

""  Yes,  3'es,  Joseph,  as  happ}'  as  possible  ;  above  all  to- 
daj',"  cried  Mariton,  kissing  him,  "  for  I  hope  3'ou  will 
never  leave  me  again." 

''  You  are  mistaken,  mother,"  answered  Joseph;  "you 
no  longer  have  any  need  of  me,  and  you  are  contented.  All 
is  well.  You  were  the  onl}'  thing  that  brought  me  back  into 
this  part  of  the  countr}^ ;  you  were  all  I  had  to  love,  for 
Brulette  —  and  it  is  well  that  all  present  should  hear  this 
from  my  own  mouth  —  for  Brulette  never  had  any  feeling 
but  that  of  a  sister  for  me.  Now  1  am  free  to  follow  my 
destiny  ;  which  is  not  a  verj'  kindl}^  one,  but  it  is  so  plainly 
mine  that  I  prefer  it  to  all  the  money  of  innkeeping  and 
the  comfort  of  family  life.  Farewell,  mother,  God  bless 
those  who  make  3'ou  happ}-  ;  as  for  me,  I  want  nothing  in 
these  parts,  not  even  admission  to  the  guild  which  evil- 
intentioned  fools  are  trying  to  den}^  me.  My  inward 
thoughts  and  my  bagpipe  go  with  me  wherever  I  am  ;  and 
I  know  I  can  always  earn  my  living,  for  wherever  my  music 
is  heard  I  shall  be  welcome." 

As  he  spoke  the  door  to  the  staircase  opened  and  the 
whole  company  of  bagpipers  entered  in  silence.  Pere 
Carnat  requested  the  attention  of  those  present,  and  in  a 
firm  and  cheerful  manner,  which  surprised  everj'body,  he 
said :  — 

"  Francois  Carnat,  ni}'  son,  after  careful  examination  of 
your  merits  and  full  discussion  of  3'our  rights,  yoxi  are 
declared  too  much  of  a  novice  for  present  admission. 
You  are  advised  to  study  a  while  longer,  w^ithout  discour-. 


The  Bagpipers,  859 

agement,  so  as  to  present  yourself  for  competition  later 
when  circumstances  may  be  more  favorable.  And  3'ou, 
Joseph  Picot,  of  the  village  of  Nohant,  the  decision  of  the 
masters  of  this  part  of  the  country  is  that  3^00  be,  b}"  rea- 
son of  3'our  unparalleled  talents,  received  into  the  first 
class  of  the  guild  ;  and  this  decision  is  unanimous." 

"  Well,"  replied  Joseph,  who  seemed  wholl}'  indifferent 
to  his  victory  and  to  the  applause  with  which  it  was  re- 
ceived, "  as  the  matter  has  turned  out  this  wa}',  I  accept 
the  decision,  although,  not  expecting  it,  I  hardly  care  for 
it." 

Joseph's  haught}'  manner  displeased  everybody,  and 
Pere  Carnat  hastened  to  sav,  with  an  air  which  I  thousrht 
showed  disguised  malignity:  "Does  that  mean,  Joseph, 
that  you  wish  for  the  honor  and  the  title,  and  do  not  in- 
tend to  take  your  place  among  the  professional  bagpipers 
in  these   parts  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet,"  said  Joseph,  evidently  b}'  wa}'  of 
bravado,  and  not  wishing  to  satisfy  his  judges.  "I'll 
think  about  it." 

"  I  believe,"  said  young  Carnat  to  his  father,  "  that  he 
has  thought  about  it  alread}' ,  and  his  decision  is  made,  for 
he  has  n't  the  courage  to  go  on  with  the  matter." 

"Courage?"  cried  Joseph,  "courage  for  what,  if  you 
please  ?  " 

Then  the  dean  of  the  bagpipers,  old  Paillou  of  Verneuil, 
said  to  Joseph  :  — 

"You  are  surel}'  not  ignorant,  young  man,  that  some- 
thing more  than  playing  an  instrument  is  required,  to  be 
received  into  our  guild  ;  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  musical 
catechism,  which  3'ou  must  know  and  on  which  3'OU  will 
be  questioned,  if  3'ou  feel  3'OU  have  the  knowledge  and 
also  the  boldness  to  answer.     Moreover,  there  are  certain 


360  The  Bagpipers, 

oaths  to  be  taken.  If  you  feel  no  repugnance  to  these 
thuigs,  3'ou  must  decide  at  once  to  submit  to  them,  so 
that  the  matter  ma}^  be  settled  to-morrow  morning." 

"I  understand  3'ou,"  said  Joseph.  "The  guild  has 
secret  oaths,  and  tests  and  trials.  They  are  all  great 
foll}^  as  far  as  I  know,  and  music  has  no  part  in  them, 
for  I  defy  3^ou  to  reply  to  an}'  musical  question  which  I 
might  put  to  you.  Consequentlj-,  the  questions  3'ou  ad- 
dress to  me  on  a  subject  30U  know  less  about  than  the 
frogs  in  the  pond,  are  no  better  than  old  women's  gabble." 

"If  you  take  it  that  way."  said  Renet,  the  Mers  bag- 
piper, "we  are  willing  3'ou  should  think  3'ourself  a  great 
genius  and  the  rest  of  us  jackasses.  So  be  it.  Keep 
your  secrets,  and  we  will  keep  ours.  We  are  not  anxious 
to  tell  them  to  those  who  despise  us.  But  remember  one 
thing :  here  is  3'our  certificate  as  a  master  bagpiper,  which 
we  now  hand  to  you,  signed  and  sealed  by  all,  including 
your  friends  the  Bourbonnais  bagpipers,  who  agree  that 
all  is  done  in  good  order.  You  are  free  to  exercise  3'our 
talents  where  3'Ou  please  and  where  3'ou  can  ;  except  in 
the  parishes  where  we  play  and  which  number  one  hun- 
dred and  fift3',  according  to  the  distribution  we  make 
among  ourselves,  the  list  of  which  will  be  handed  to  3'Ou  ; 
in  those  parishes  3'ou  are  forbidden  to  pla3\  We  give 
notice  that  if  3'OU  break  this  rule  it  will  be  at  3'our  own 
risk  and  peril,  for  we  shall  put  a  stop  to  it,  if  need  be,  by 
main  force." 

Here  Mariton  spoke  up. 

"You  needn't  threaten  him,"  she  said,  "it  is  safe  to 
leave  him  to  his  own  fanc3*,  which  is  to  play  his  music  and 
look  for  no  profit.  He  has  no  need  to  do  that,  thank 
God,  and  besides,  his  lungs  are  not  strong  enough  for 
3'our  business.     Come,  Joseph,  thank  them  for  the  honor 


The  Bagpipers.  361 

the}'  have  done  you,  and  don't  keep  them  anxious  about 
their  interests.  Let  the  matter  be  settled  now,  and 
here  's  m^^  man  who  will  pay  the  pipers  with  a  good  quar- 
tern of  Sancerre  or  Issoudun  wine,  at  the  choice  of  the 
company." 

"That's  all  right,"  said  old  Carnat.  "We  are  quite 
willing  ihe  matter  should  end  thus.  It  is  best,  no  doubt, 
for  your  son  ;  for  one  need  n't  be  either  a  fool  or  a  coward 
to  shrink  from  the  tests,  and  I  do  think  the  poor  fellow  is 
not  cut  out  to  endure  them." 

"We  will  see  about  that!"  cried  Joseph,  falling  into 
the  trap  that  was  set  for  him,  in  spite  of  the  warnings 
Pere  Bastien  was  giving  him  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  demand 
the  tests ;  and  as  you  have  no  right  to  refuse  them  after 
delivering  to  me  the  certificate,  I  intend  to  practise  your 
calling  if  I  choose,  or,  at  an}'  rate,  to  prove  that  I  am  not 
prevented  from  doing  so  by  an}'  of  you." 

"Agreed  !  "  said  the  dean,  showing  plainly,  as  did  Car- 
nat and  several  others,  the  malignant  pleasure  Joseph's 
words  afforded  them.  "  We  will  now  prepare  for  your 
initiation,  friend  Joseph.  Remember  there  is  no  going 
back,  and  that  you  will  be  considered  a  milk-sop  or  a 
braggart  if  you  change  your  mind." 

"  Go  on,  go  on  !  "  cried  Joseph.  "  I  '11  await  you  on  a 
firm  foot." 

"  It  is  for  us  to  await  you,"  said  old  Carnat  in  his  ear, 
"  at  the  stroke  of  midnight." 

"  Where?"  said  Joseph,  coolly. 

"At  the  gate  of  the  cemetery,"  replied  the  dean,  in  a 
low  voice.  Then,  without  accepting  the  wine  which  Benoit 
oflfered  them,  or  giving  heed  to  the  remonstrances  of  his 
wife,  they  went  off  in  a  body,  threatening  evil  to  all  who 
followed  them  or  spied  upon  their  mysteries. 


362  The  Bagpipers. 

The  Head-Woodsman  and  Huriel  went  with  them  with- 
out a  word  to  Joseph,  b}^  which  I  plainly  saw  that,  although 
the  pair  were  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  the  other  bagpipers, 
they  thought  it  none  the  less  their  duty  not  to  warn  Jo- 
seph, nor  to  betray  in  the  slightest  degree  the  secrets  of 
the  guild. 

In  spite  of  the  threats  which  were  made,  I  was  not  de- 
terred from  following  them  at  a  distance,  without  other 
precaution  than  carelessly  sauntering  down  the  same  road, 
with  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  and  whistling  as  if  I  were 
paying  no  attention  to  tliem  or  their  affairs.  I  knew  tlie}^ 
would  not  let  me  get  near  enough  to  overhear  their  plots, 
but  I  wanted  to  make  sure  in  what  direction  the}'  meant 
to  lie  in  wait,  so  as  to  get  there  later,  if  possible,  unob- 
served. With  that  notion  in  my  head,  I  signed  to  Leon- 
ard to  keep  the  others  at  the  tavern  until  I  returned  to 
call  them.  But  my  pursuit  was  soon  ended.  The  inn 
stood  on  a  street  which  ran  down-hill  to  the  river,  and  is 
now  the  mail  route  to  Issoudun.  In  those  da3's  it  was  a 
breakneck  little  place,  narrow  and  ill-paved,  lined  with  old 
houses  with  pointed  gables  and  stone  mullions.  The  last 
of  these  houses  was  pulled  down  a  year  ago.  From  the 
river,  which  ran  along  tlie  wall  below  the  inn  of  the  Boeuf 
Couronnc,  a  steep  ascent  led  to  the  market-place,  which 
was  then,  as  it  is  now,  that  long  unevenl}^  paved  space, 
planted  with  trees,  bordered  on  the  left  by  old  houses,  on 
the  right  b}^  the  broad  moat,  fall  of  water,  and  the  great 
wall  (then  unbroken)  of  the  castle.  The  church  closes 
the  market-place  at  the  further  end,  and  two  alleys  lead 
down  from  it,  one  to  the  parsonage,  the  other  past  the 
cemetery.  The  bagpipers  turned  down  the  latter  path. 
They  were  about  a  gunshot  in  advance  of  me,  that  is  to 
say,  just  time  enough  to  pass  along  the  path  by  the  ceme- 


The  Bagpipers.  36S 

tery  and  out  into  the  open  country  b}'  the  postern  of  the 
English  tower,  unless  thej-  chose  to  stop  at  this  particular 
spot ;  which  was  not  ver}^  convenient,  for  the  path  —  which 
ran  between  the  moat  of  the  castle  on  one  side  and  the 
bank  of  the  cemetery  on  the  other  —  was  only  wide  enough 
for  one  person  at  a  time. 

When  I  judged  that  the  bagpipers  must  have  reached  the 
postern,  I  turned'  the  corner  of  the  castle  under  an  arcade 
which  in  those  days  was  used  as  a  footpath  by  the  gentry 
on  their  waj'  to  the  parish  church.  I  found  I  was  all 
alone  when  I  entered  the  path  by  the  churchyard,  a  place 
few  Christian  men  would  set  foot  in  alone  after  nightfall, — 
not  only  because  it  led  past  the  cemetery,  but  because  the 
north  flank  of  the  castle  had  a  bad  name.  There  was  talk 
of  I  don't  know  how  man}-  persons  drowned  in  the  moat 
in  the  da3's  of  the  English  war ;  and  some  folks  swore 
they  had  heard  the  cocadrillos  whistle  on  that  particular 
path  when  epidemics  were  about. 

You  know  of  course  that  the  cocadrillo  is  a  sort  of  liz- 
ard, which  sometimes  seems  no  bigger  than  your  little 
finger,  and  sometimes  swells  to  the  size  of  an  ox  and 
grows  five  or  six  3-ards  long.  This  beast,  which  I  have 
never  seen,  and  whose  existence  I  could  n't  warrant,  is 
supposed  to  vomit  a  venom  which  poisons  the  air  and 
brings  the  plague.  Now,  though  I  did  not  believe  much 
of  this,  I  was  not  over- fond  of  going  along  this  path,  where 
the  high  wall  of  the  castle  and  the  tall  trees  of  the  ceme- 
ter}^  shut  out  every  speck  of  light.  On  this  occasion 
I  walked  fast,  without  looking  to  the  right  or  left,  and 
passed  through  the  postern  of  the  English  gate,  of  which, 
by  the  b3*e,  not  one  stone  upon  another  remains  to  the 
present  da}^. 

Once  there,  and  notwithstanding  that  the  night  was  fine 


864  The  Bagpipers, 

and  the  moon  clear,  I  could  not  see,  either  far  or  near,  the 
slightest  trace  of  the  eighteen  persons  I  was  after.  I 
looked  in  every  direction  ;  I  even  went  as  far  as  Pere 
Begneux's  cottage,  the  onl}'  house  the}'  could  have  entered. 
The  occupants  were  all  asleep,  and  nowhere  about  was 
there  any  noise,  or  trace,  or  sign,  of  a  living  person.  I 
therefore  concluded  that  the  missing  bagpipers  had  en- 
tered the  cemeter}^  to  perform  some  wicked  conjuring,  and 
—  though  far  from  hking  to  do  so,  but  determined  to  risk 
all  for  Therence's  relations  —  I  returned  through  the  pos- 
tern and  along  the  accursed  path,  stepping  softl}',  skirting 
the  bank  so  close  that  I  touched  the  tombstones,  and 
keeping  my  ears  open  to  the  shghtest  sound.  I  heard  the 
screech-owl  hooting  in  the  casemates,  and  the  adders  his- 
sins:  in  the  black  water  of  the  moat,  but  that  was  all. 
The  dead  slept  in  the  ground  as  tranquilly  as  the  living  in 
their  beds.  I  plucked  up  courage  to  climb  over  the  ceme- 
tery bank  and  to  give  a  glance  round  the  field  of  death. 
All  was  quiet,  —  no  signs  whatever  of  the  bagpipers. 

Then  I  walked  all  round  the  castle.  It  was  locked  up, 
and  as  it  was  after  ten  o'clock  masters  and  servants  slept 
like  stones. 

Then  I  returned  to  the  inn,  not  being  able  to  imagine 
what  had  become  of  the  guild,  but  determined  to  station 
my  comrades  in  the  path  leading  to  the  English  gate,  from 
which  we  could  see  what  happened  to  Joseph  when  he 
reached  the  rendezvous  at  midnight  at  the  gate  of  the 
cemeter}^  I  found  them  on  the  bridge  debating  whether 
or  not  the}^  should  start  for  home,  and  declaring  they  could 
see  no  danger  to  the  Huriels,  because  it  was  evident  the}" 
had  agreed  amicably  with  the  other  bagpipers  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  competition.  As  for  what  concerned  Joseph, 
they  cared  little  or  noticing,  and  tried  to  prevent  me  from 


The  Bagpipers,  365 

interfering.  I  told  them  that  to  my  thinking  the  dan- 
ger for  all  three  would  be  when  the  tests  were  applied, 
for  the  evil  intentions  of  the  bagpipers  had  been  plainly 
shown,  and  the  Huriels,  I  knew,  were  there  to  protect 
Joseph. 

"  Are  you  already  sick  of  the  enterprise?'*  I  said.  "Is 
it  because  we  are  onh'  eight  to  sixteen,  and  you  have  n't 
a  heart  for  two  inside  of  you  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  count  eight?  "  asked  Leonard.  " Do  3'ou 
think  the  Head- Woodsman  and  his  son  would  go  with  us 
against  their  fellow-members  ?  " 

"  I  did  count  wrong  ;  "  I  answered  ;  "for  we  are  really 
nine.  Joseph  won't  let  himself  be  fleeced  if  the}'  make  it 
too  hot  for  him,  and  as  both  the  Huriels  carry  arms,  I  feel 
quite  sure  they  mean  to  defend  him  if  they  can't  be  heard 
otherwise." 

"That's  not  the  point,"  returned  Leonard.  "We  are 
only  six,  and  the}'  are  twenty ;  but  there 's  another  thing 
which  pleases  us  even  less  than  a  fight.  People  have  been 
talking  in  the  inn,  and  each  had  a  storv  to  relate  of  these 
tests.  The  monk  denounced  them  as  impious  and  abomi- 
nable ;  and  though  Joseph  laughed  at  what  was  said,  we 
don't  feel  certain  there  is  nothing  in  it.  The}^  told  of 
candidates  nailed  on  a  bier,  and  furnaces  into  which  they 
were  tripped,  and  red-hot  iron  crosses  which  they  were 
made  to  clasp.  Such  things  seem  hard  to  believe  ;  and  if 
1  were  certain  that  that  was  all  I  'd  like  to  punish  the  fel- 
lows who  are  bad  enough  to  ill-treat  a  neighbor  in  that 
way.     Unfortunately — " 

"There,  there!"  said  I,  "I  see  you  have  let  3'ourself 
be  scared.  What  is  behind  it  all?  Tell  the  whole,  and 
let 's  either  laugh  at  it  or  take  warning." 

"  This  is  it,"  said  one  of  the  lads,  seeing  that  Leonard  was 


366  The  Bagpipers, 

ashamed  to  own  his  fears.  ''  None  of  us  have  ever  seen 
the  devil,  and  we  don't  want  to  make  his  acquaintance." 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  I  cried,  seeing  that  they  were  all  relieved, 
now  the  words  were  out.  "So  it  is  Lucifer  himself  that 
frightens  3'ou  !  Well,  I  'm  too  good  a  Christian  to  be 
afraid  of  him ;  I  give  my  soul  to  God,  and  I  '11  be  bound 
I  '11  take  him  by  the  horns,  yes  I  myself,  alone  against  the 
enemy  of  mankind,  as  fearlessly  as  I  would  take  a  goat  by 
the  beard.  He  has  been  allowed  to  do  evil  to  those  who 
fear  him  long  enough,  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  an  honest 
fellow  who  dared  to  wrench  off  his  horns  could  deprive 
him  of  half  his  power,  and  that  would  be  something  gained 
at  any  rate." 

''  Faith  !  "  said  Leonard,  ashamed  of  his  fears,  "  if  you 
look  at  it  that  wa^^  I  won't  back  down,  and  if  you'll  smash 
his  horns  I'll  try  to  pull  out  his  tail.  They  say  it  is  fine, 
and  we  '11  find  out  if  it  is  gold  or  hemp." 

There  is  no  such  remed}^  against  fear  as  fun,  but  I  don't 
deny  that  though  I  took  the  matter  on  that  tone,  1  was 
not  at  all  anxious  to  pit  myself  against  "  Georgeon,"  as 
we  call  the  devil  in  our  parts.  I  was  n't  a  bit  more  easy 
in  mind  than  the  rest,  but  for  Therence's  sake  I  felt  read}' 
to  march  into  the  jaws  of  hell.  I  had  promised  her,  and 
the  good  God  himself  could  n't  have  turned  me  back  now. 

But  that 's  an  ill  way  to  talk.  The  good  God,  on  the 
contrary,  gave  me  strength  and  confidence,  and  the  more 
anxiety  I  felt  all  that  night,  the  more  I  thought  on  him 
and  asked  his  aid. 

When  our  other  comrades  saw  that  our  minds,  Leonard's 
and  mine,  were  made  up,  the}'  followed  us.  To  make  the 
aff'air  safer,  I  went  back  to  the  inn  to  see  if  I  could  find 
other  friends  who,  without  knowing  what  we  were  after, 
would  follow  us  for  fun,  and,  if  occasion  came,  would  fight 


The  Bagpipers,  867 

with  us.  But  it  was  late,  and  there  was  no  one  at  the 
Boeuf  Couronne  but  Benoit,  who  was  supping  with  the 
monk,  Mariton,  who  was  saying  her  prayers,  and  Joseph, 
who  had  thrown  himself  on  a  bed  and  was  sound  asleep 
with,  I  must  own,  a  tranquillity  that  put  us  to  shame. 

"  I  have  only  one  hope,"  said  Mariton,  as  she  got  off  her 
knees ;  "  and  that  is  that  he  will  sleep  over  the  time  and 
not  wake  up  till  morning." 

"That's  just  like  all  women!  "  cried  Benoit,  laughing, 
"  they  want  life  at  the  price  of  shame.  But  I  gave  my 
word  to  her  lad  to  wake  him  before  midnight,  and  I  shall 
not  fail  to  do  so." 

"  Ah,  you  don't  love  him  !  "  cried  the  mother.  ^^  We  '11 
see  if  you  push  our  Chariot  into  danger  when  his  turn 
comes." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,  wife,"  re- 
plied the  innkeeper  ;  "  go  to  bed  and  to  sleep  with  my  boy  ; 
I  promise  you  I  '11  not  fail  to  wake  yours.  You  would  not 
wish  him  to  blame  me  for  his  dishonor  ?  " 

"Besides,"  said  the  monk,  "what  danger  do  you  sup- 
pose there  is  in  the  nonsense  they  are  going  to  perform  ? 
I  tell  you  you  are  dreaming,  my  good  woman.  The  devil 
does  n't  get  hold  of  anybod}^ ;  God  does  n't  allow  it,  and 
you  have  not  brought  3'our  boy  up  so  ill  that  j'ou  need 
fear  that  he  will  get  himself  damned  for  his  music.  I  tell 
3'ou  that  the  villanous  tests  of  the  bagpipers  are  really 
nothing  worse  than  impious  jokes,  from  which  sensible 
people  can  easily  protect  themselves ;  and  Joseph  need 
only  laugh  at  the  demons  they  will  set  upon  him,  to  put 
them  all  to  flight." 

The  monk's  words  heartened  up  my  comrades  won- 
derfull}'. 

"  If  it  is  only  a  farce,"  they  said  to  me,  "  we  will  tumble 


368  The  Bagpipers. 

into  the  middle  of  it  and  thrash  the  devil  well ;  but  had  n*t 
we  better  take  Benoit  into  our  confidence?  He  might 
help  us." 

•'  To  tell  3'ou  the  truth,"  I  said,  ''  I  am  not  sure  that  he 
would.  He  is  thought  a  worth}'  man ;  but  3'ou  never 
know  the  secrets  of  a  family,  especiall}^  when  there  are 
children  by  a  first  marriage.  Step-fathers  don't  alwaj's 
like  them,  and  Joseph  has  been  none  too  amiable  this 
evening  with  his.  Let 's  get  off  without  a  word  to  any- 
one ;  that 's  best,  and  it  is  nearl}^  time  we  were  there." 

Taking  the  road  past  the  church,  walking  softly  and  in 
single  file,  we  posted  ourselves  in  the  little  path  near  the 
English  gate.  The  moon  was  so  low  we  could  creep  in 
the  shadow  of  the  cemetery  bank  and  not  be  seen,  even  if 
any  one  passed  quite  close  to  us.  M}^  comrades,  being 
strangers,  had  no  such  repugnance  to  the  place  as  the  vil- 
lagers, and  I  let  them  go  in  front  while  I  hid  within  the 
cemeter}',  near  enough  to  the  gate  to  see  who  entered,  and 
also  near  enough  to  call  to  them  when  wanted. 


The  Bagpipers,  369 


THIRTY-FIRST  EVENING. 

I  WAITED  a  good  long  time,  —  all  the  longer  because 
the  hours  go  so  slow  in  company  with  dead  folks.  At  last 
midnight  struck  in  the  church  steeple  and  I  saw  the  head 
of  a  man  rising  beyond  the  low  wall  of  the  cemetery'  quite 
near  the  gate.  Another  quarter  of  an  hour  dragged  along 
without  my  seeing  or  hearing  anything  but  that  man,  who, 
getting  tired  of  waiting,  began  to  whistle  a  Bourbonnais 
tune,  whereby  I  knew  it  was  Joseph,  who  no  doubt  be- 
trayed the  hopes  of  his  enemies  b}"  seeming  so  cool  in 
presence  of  the  dead. 

At  last,  another  man,  who  was  stuck  close  to  the  wall 
inside  the  gate,  and  whom  I  had  n't  seen  on  account  of  the 
big  box-trees  which  hid  him,  popped  his  head  quickly  over 
the  wall  as  if  to  take  Joseph  b}"  surprise  ;  but  the  latter 
did  not  stir,  and  said,  laughing:  "  Well,  Pere  Carnat,  you 
are  rather  late  ;  I  came  near  going  to  sleep  while  waiting 
Will  you  open  the  gate,  or  must  I  enter  that  '  nettle-field/ 
b}^  the  breach  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Carnat,  "the  curate  would  not  like  it;  we 
mustn't  openly  offend  the  church  people.  I  will  go  to 
you." 

He  climbed  over  the  wall  and  told  Joseph  he  must  let 
his  head  and  arms  be  covered  with  a  very  thick  canvas 
sack,  and  then  walk  wherever  he  was  led. 

"  Ver}^  good,"  said  Joseph  in  a  contemptuous  tone. 
''  Go  on." 

I  watched  them  from  over  the  wall,  and  saw  them  enter 

24 


870  The   Bagpipers. 

the  little  path  to  the  English  gate ;  then  I  made  a  short 
cut  to  the  place  where  I  had  left  mj  comrades  and  found 
only  four  of  them  ;  the  youngest  had  slipped  off  without  a 
word,  and  I  was  rather  afraid  the  others  would  do  the 
same,  for  they  found  the  time  long  and  told  me  they  had 
heard  very  queer  noises,  which  seemed  to  come  from  under 
the  earth. 

Presently  Joseph  came  along,  with  his  head  covered  and 
led  by  Carnat.  The  pair  got  close  upon  us,  but  turned 
from  the  path  about  twenty  feet  off.  Carnat  made  Joseph 
clamber  down  to  the  edge  of  the  moat,  and  we  thought  he 
meant  to  drown  him.  At  once  we  were  on  our  legs  to 
stop  such  treachery,  but  in  a  minute  more  we  saw  they 
were  both  walking  in  the  water,  which  was  shallow  at  that 
place,  until  the}^  reached  a  low  archway  in  the  wall  of  the 
castle  which  was  partly'  in  the  water  of  the  moat.  They 
passed  through  it,  and  this  explained  to  me  what  had  be- 
come of  the  others  whom  I  had  hunted  for. 

It  was  necessary  to  do  as  they  did  ;  which  did  n't  seem 
to  me  very  difficult,  but  my  comrades  were  hard  to  per- 
suade. They  had  heard  that  the  vaults  of  the  castle  ran 
nine  miles  out  into  the  country,  as  far  as  Deols,  and  that 
persons  who  did  not  know  their  windings  had  been  lost  in 
them.  I  was  forced  to  declare  that  I  know  them  very 
well,  though  I  had  never  set  foot  there  in  my  life,  and  had 
no  idea  whether  they  were  common  wine-cellars  or  a  sub- 
terraneous town,  as  my  friends  declared. 

I  walked  first,  without  seeing  where  I  set  my  feet,  feel- 
ing the  walls,  which  inclosed  a  narrow  passage  where  one's 
head  ver^'  nearl}^  touched  the  roof.  We  advanced  in  this 
way  for  a  short  time,  when  a  hullaballoo  sounded  beneath 
us  like  forty  thunder-claps  rolling  round  the  devil's  cave. 
It  was  so  strange  and  alarming  that  I  stopped  short  to 


The  Bagpipers.  371 

try  and  find  out  what  it  meant ;  then  I  went  quickly  for- 
ward, not  to  let  myself  get  chilled  with  the  idea  of  some 
devil's  caper,  telling  my  companions  to  follow  me.  But 
the  noise  was  so  loud  they  did  not  hear  me  and  I,  think- 
ing they  were  at  my  heels,  went  on  and  on,  till,  hearing 
nothing  more,  I  turned  to  speak  to  them  and  got  no  an- 
swer. Not  wishing  to  call  aloud,  I  went  back  four  or  five 
steps  ;  it  was  all  dark.  I  stretched  out  my  hands,  and 
called  cautiously  ;  good-b^^e  to  my  valiant  contingent,  — 
they  had  deserted  me ! 

I  thought  I  must  be  pretty  near  the  entrance  and  could 
surely  catch  up  with  them  within  or  without.  I  returned 
through  the  arch  hy  which  we  had  entered,  and  searched 
carefully  along  tlie  little  path  beside  the  cemetery  ;  but  no  ! 
my  comrades  had  disappeared  just  like  the  bagpipers ;  it 
seemed  as  if  the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  them 
up. 

I  had  a  moment  of  horrid  worr}^  thinking  I  must  either 
give  up  the  whole  thing  or  return  to  those  devilish  caverns 
and  take  myself  all  alone  into  the  traps  and  terrors  they 
were  preparing  for  Joseph.  But  I  asked  myself  whether, 
even  if  the  matter  concerned  only  him,  I  could  quietly 
leave  him  in  danger.  M3'  soul  answered  no,  and  then  I 
asked  my  heart  if  love  for  Therence  was  n't  quite  as  real  a 
thing  as  one's  duty  to  one's  neighbor,  and  the  answer  I 
received  sent  me  back  through  the  dark  and  slim}'  arch- 
way and  along  the  subterranean  passages  —  I  won't  say  as 
gayl}',  but  at  any  rate  as  quickl}'  as  if  I  were  going  to  my 
own  wedding. 

While  I  was  feeling  my  way  forward  I  found,  on  m}' 
right,  an  opening  to  another  passage,  which  I  had  not 
found  before  because  I  then  felt  to  my  left ;  and  I  thought 
to  myself  that  my  comrades  in  going  out  had  probably 


372  The  Bagpipers. 

found  it  and  turned  that  wa3^  I  followed  the  passage, 
for  there  was  no  sign  that  the  other  way  would  bring  me 
any  nearer  to  the  bagpipers.  I  did  not  find  my  comrades, 
but  as  for  the  bagpipers,  I  had  not  taken  twenty  steps 
before  I  heard  their  din  much  nearer  than  it  sounded  the 
first  time  ;  and  presenth'  a  quivering  kind  of  light  let  me 
see  that  I  was  entering  a  large  round  cave  which  had  three 
or  four  exits,  black  as  the  jaws  of  hell. 

I  was  surprised  to  see  so  clearly  in  a  vault  where  there 
was  n't  any  light,  but  I  presently  noticed  that  gleams  were 
coming  from  below  through  the  ground  I  trod  upon.  I 
noticed  that  this  ground  seemed  to  swell  up  in  the  middle, 
and  fearing  it  was  not  solid,  I  kept  close  to  the  wall,  and 
getting  near  to  a  crevice,  I  lay  down  with  my  eye  close  to 
it  and  saw  ver}^  plainly  what  was  going  on  in  another 
cavern  just  below  the  one  I  was  in.  It  was,  as  I  after- 
wards learned,  a  former  dungeon,  adjoining  an  oubliette  or 
black  hole,  the  mouth  of  which  could  still  be  seen  thirty 
3'ears  ago  in  the  upper  hall  of  the  castle.  I  thought  as 
much  when  I  saw  the  remains  of  human  bones  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  cave,  which  the  bagpipers  had  set  up  in  rows 
to  terrify  the  candidate,  with  pine  torches  inside  their 
skulls.  Joseph  was  tliere  all  alone,  his  eyes  unbound,  his 
arms  crossed,  just  as  cool  as  I  was  not,  listened  con- 
temptuously to  the  uproar  of  eighteen  bagpipes,  which 
all  brayed  together,  prolonging  a  single  note  into  a  roar. 
This  crazy  music  came  from  an  adjoining  cave  where  the 
bagpipers  were  hidden,  and  where,  as  they  doubtless  knew, 
a  curious  echo  multiplied  the  sound.  I,  who  knew  noth- 
ing about  it  then,  fancied  at  first  that  all  the  bagpipes  of 
Berr}',  Auvergne,  and  the  Bourbonnais  were  collected 
together  in  that  cave. 

When  they  had  had  enough  of  growling  with  their  in- 


The  Bagpipers,  373 

struments,  they  began  to  squeal  and  squall  themselves,  and 
the  walls  echoed  them,  till  you  would  have  fancied  they 
were  a  great  troop  of  furious  animals  of  all  kinds.  But 
Joseph,  who  was  really  an  unusual  kind  of  man  among  our 
peasantr}',  —  indeed,  I  hardly  ever  knew  his  like,  —  merely 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  yawned,  as  if  tired  with  such 
fool's  play.  His  courage  passed  into  me,  and  I  began  to 
think  of  laughing  at  the  farce,  when  a  little  noise  at  my 
back  made  me  turn  my  head.  There  I  saw,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  passage  by  which  I  had  come,  a  figure  which  froze 
my  senses. 

It  was  that  of  a  lord  of  the  olden  time,  carrying  a  lance 
and  wearing  an  iron  breastplate  and  leathern  garments  of  a 
style  no  longer  seen.  But  the  most  awful  part  of  him  was 
his  face,  which  was  actually  like  a  death's  head. 

I  parti}'  recovered  myself,  thinking  it  was  only  a  dis- 
guise some  of  the  enemy  had  put  on  to  frighten  Joseph ; 
but  on  reflection  I  saw  the  danger  was  really  mine,  because, 
finding  me  on  the  watch,  he  would  surel}'  do  me  some 
damage.  However,  though  he  saw  me  as  plain  as  I  could 
see  him,  he  did  not  stir,  but  remained  stock-still  like  a 
ghost,  half  in  shadow,  and  half  in  the  light  that  came  up 
from  below  ;  and  as  this  light  flickered  according  as  it  was 
moved  about,  there  were  moments  when,  not  seeing  him,  I 
thought  he  was  a  notion  of  mj'  own  brain,  — until  suddenly 
he  would  reappear,  all  but  his  legs,  which  remained  In 
darkness  behind  a  sort  of  step  or  barrier,  which  made  me 
fancy  he  was  as  it  were  floating  on  a  cloud. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  tortured  with  this  vision, 
which  made  me  forget  to  watch  Joseph,  and  scared  me 
lest  I  was  going  mad  in  trying  to  do  more  than  it  was  in 
me  to  perform.  I  recollected  that  I  had  seen  in  the  hall 
of  the  castle  an  old  picture  which  they  said  was  the  por- 


37-1  The  Bagpipers. 

trait  of  a  wicked  warrior  whom  a  lord  of  the  castle  in  the 
olden  time,  who  was  the  warrior's  brother,  had  flung  into 
the  dungeon.  The  garments  of  leather  and  iron  which  I 
saw  before  me  on  that  skeleton  figure,  were  certainly  like 
those  in  the  picture,  and  the  notion  came  into  my  head 
that  here  was  a  ghost  in  pain,  watching  the  desecration  of 
his  sepulchre,  and  waiting  to  show  his  displeasure  in  some 
way  or  other. 

What  made  this  idea  the  more  probable  was  that  the 
ghost  said  nothing  to  me,  and  evidently  took  no  notice  of 
my  presence,  —  apparently  aware  that  I  had  no  evil  inten- 
tions  against  his  poor  carcass. 

At  last  a  noise  different  from  all  others  attracted  my 
eyes  away  from  him.  1  looked  back  into  the  cave  below 
me,  where  stood  Joseph,  and  something  near  him  very 
ugly  and  very  strange. 

Joseph  stood  boldly  in  front  of  an  abominable  creature, 
dressed  in  the  skin  of  a  dog,  with  horns  sticking  out  of  his 
tangled  hair,  and  a  red  face,  and  claws  and  tail ;  the 
which  beast  was  jumping  about  and  making  faces  like  one 
possessed  of  the  devil.  It  was  vile  to  see,  and  yet  I 
was  n't  the  dupe  of  it  very  long,  for  though  the  creature 
tried  to  disguise  his  voice  I  thought  I  recognized  that  of 
Dore-Fratin,  the  bagpiper  of  Pouligny,  one  of  the  strong- 
est and  most  quarrelsome  men  in  our  neighborhood. 

"  You  may  sneer  as  you  please,"  he  was  sa3'ing  to  Jo- 
seph, '*  at  me  and  at  hell,  but  I  am  the  king  of  all  musi- 
cians, and  3'ou  shall  not  play  your  instrument  without  my 
permission  unless  you  sell  me  your  soul." 

Joseph  answered,  ''What  can  such  a  fool  of  a  devil 
as  you  do  with  the  soul  of  a  musician?  You  have  no  use 
for  it." 

"Mind  what  3'ou  say,"  returned  the  other.      "Don't 


The  Bagpipers.  375 

3'ou  know  that  down  here  3'ou  must  either  give  3'ourself  to 
the  devil  or  prove  that  3'ou  are  stronger  than  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  3'es,  I  know  the  proverb,"  said  Joseph :  '' '  Kill 
the  devil  or  the  devil  will  kill  you.' " 

As  he  spoke,  I  saw  Huriel  and  his  father  come  from  a 
dark  opening  into  the  vault  and  go  up  to  the  devil  as  if  to 
speak  to  him ;  but  the3'  were  pulled  back  b3^  the  other 
bagpipers  who  now  showed  themselves,  and  Carnat  the 
elder  addressed  Joseph. 

"You  have  proved,"  he  said,  "that  3'ou  don't  fear 
witchcraft,  and  we  will  let  3'ou  go  free  if  you  will  now 
conform  to  the  usual  custom,  which  is  to  fight  the  devil, 
in  proof  that  you,  a  Christian  man,  refuse  to  submit  to 
him." 

"  If  the  devil  wants  to  be  well  thrashed,"  replied  Jo- 
seph, "  let  me  go  at  him  at  once,  and  we'll  see  if  his  skin 
is  any  tougher  than  mine.     What  weapons  ?  " 

"  None  but  3'our  fists,"  replied  Carnat. 

"  It  is  fair  pla3",  I  hope,"  said  the  Head-Woodsman. 

Joseph  took  no  time  to  inquire ;  his  temper  was  up. 
Enraged  b3'  the  tricks  that  were  pla3'ed  on  him,  he  sprang 
on  the  devil,  tore  off  his  horns  and  head-dress,  and  caught 
him  so  resolutel3^  round  the  bod3^  that  he  brought  him  to 
earth  and  fell  on  top  of  him. 

But  he  instantly  got  up,  and  I  fancied  he  gave  a  cr3^  of 
surprise  and  pain ;  but  the  bagpipers  all  began  to  pla3^, 
except  Huriel  and  his  father,  who  stood  watching  the  en- 
counter with  an  expression  of  doubt  and  uneasiness. 

Joseph,  meantime,  was  tumbling  the  devil  about  and 
seeming  to  get  the  better  of  him  ;  but  his  rage  seemed 
to  me  unnatural,  and  I  feared  he  might  put  himself  in  the 
wrong  through  too  much  violence.  The  bagpipers  seemed 
to  help  him,  for  instead  of  rescuing  their  comrade,  who 


376  The  Bagpipers. 

was  knocked  down  three  times,  the}'^  marched  round  and 
round  the  fight,  piping  loudl}^,  and  beating  with  their  feet 
to  excite  him. 

Suddenly  the  Head- Woodsman  separated  the  combat- 
ants by  leveUing  a  blow  with  his  stick  on  the  devil's  paws, 
and  threatening  to  strike  harder  the  second  time  if  he  was 
not  listened  to.  Huriel  ran  to  his  father's  side,  raising  his 
stick  also,  while  all  the  others  stopped  walking  round  and 
round  and  piping  ;  and  a  moment's  silence  and  stillness  fell 
on  all. 

Then  I  saw  that  Joseph,  overcome  with  pain,  was  wip- 
ing his  torn  hands  and  his  face,  which  was  covered  with 
blood,  and  that  he  would  have  fainted  if  Pluriel  had  not 
caught  him  in  his  arms,  while  Dore-Fratin  merely  threw 
aside  his  trappings,  panting  with  heat,  and  wiping  the 
sweat  from  his  forehead  with  a  grin. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  cried  Carnat,  coming  up  to 
the  Head- Woodsman  with  a  threatening  air,  "Are  3'ou  a 
traitor  to  the  guild  ?  B3"  what  right  do  you  interfere  with 
the  tests?" 

"  I  interfere  at  my  own  risk  and  to  3'our  shame,"  replied 
the  Head- Woodsman.  "  I  am  not  a  traitor,  and  you  are 
evil-doers,  both  treacherous  and  cruel.  I  suspected  that 
3'ou  were  tricking  us  to  lead  this  young  man  here  and 
wound  him,  perhaps  dangerousl}'.  You  hate  him  because 
3^ou  know  that  ever3^  one  will  prefer  him  to  3'ou,  and  that 
wherever  he  is  heard  no  one  will  listen  to  your  music. 
You  have  not  dared  to  refuse  him  admission  to  the  guild, 
because  the  whole  country  would  blame  you  for  such  a 
crying  injustice  ;  but  3'OU  are  trying  to  frigliten  him  from 
playing  in  the  parishes  3'ou  have  taken  possession  of,  and 
3-ou  have  put  him  tln-ough  hard  and  dangerous  tests  which 
none  of  30U  could  have  borne  as  long  as  he." 


TJie  Baginpers.  377 

''  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  the  old  dean, 
Pailloux  de  Verneuil ;  *'and  the  blame  you  cast  upon  us 
here,  in  presence  of  a  candidate,  is  unheard-of  insolence. 
We  don't  know  how  you  practise  initiation  in  your  part  of 
the  country,  but  here  we  are  following  our  customs  and 
shall  not  allow  you  to  interfere." 

"  I  shall  interfere,"  said  Huriel,  who  was  sopping  Jo- 
seph's blood  with  his  handkerchief,  and  had  brought  him 
back  to  consciousness,  as  he  held  him  on  his  knee.  "  I 
neither  can  nor  will  tell  of  3'our  conduct  away  from  here, 
because  I  belong  to  the  brotherhood,  but  at  least  I  will 
tell  you  to  30ur  faces  that  you  are  brutes.  In  our  coun- 
try we  fight  with  the  devil  in  jest,  taking  care  to  do  no 
one  any  harm.  Here  3'ou  choose  the  strongest  among 
you  and  furnish  him  with  hidden  weapons,  with  which  he 
endeavors  to  put  out  the  eyes  and  stab  the  veins  of  3'our 
victims.  See !  this  3'oung  man  is  exhausted,  and  in  the 
rage  which  3'our  wickedness  excited  in  him,  he  would  have 
let  you  kill  him  if  we  had  not  stopped  the  fight.  And 
then  what  would  you  have  done  ?  You  would  have  flung 
his  body  into  that  vault,  where  so  man3"  other  unfortunates 
have  perished,  whose  bones  ought  to  rise  and  condemn 
3'ou  for  being  as  cruel  as  your  former  lords." 

These  words  reminded  me  of  the  apparition  I  had  for- 
gotten, and  I  turned  round  to  see  if  it  was  still  there.  I 
could  not  see  it,  and  then  I  bethought  me  of  finding  my 
way  to  the  lower  cave,  where,  as  I  began  to  think,  I  might 
be  useful  to  m3'  friends.  I  found  the  stairwa3'  at  once  and 
went  down  to  the  entrance  of  the  vault,  not  tr3ing  to  con- 
ceal m3'self,  for  such  disputing  and  confusion  were  going 
on  that  no  one  paid  an3'  attention  to  me. 

The  Head-Woodsman  had  picked  up  the  devil's  skin- 
coat  and  showed  that  it  was  covered  with  spikes  like  a 


378  The  Bagpipers. 

comb  for  curr3'ing  oxen ;  and  also  the  mittens  which  the 
sham  devil  wore  on  his  hands,  in  which  strong  nails  were 
fastened  with  the  points  outside.  The  bagpipers  were 
furious.  "Here's  a  pretty  fuss  about  a  few  scratches," 
cried  Carnat.  "Isn't  it  in  the  order  of  things  that  a 
devil  should  have  claws  ?  And  this  j^oung  fool,  who  at- 
tacked him  so  imprudently,  wh}^  did  n't  he  know  how  far 
he  could  play  at  that  game  without  getting  his  snout 
scraped?  Come,  come,  don't  pit}'  him  so  much;  it's  a 
mere  nothing ;  and  since  he  has  had  enough  of  it,  let  him 
confess  he  can't  play  at  our  games,  and  is  not  fit  to 
belong  to  our  guild  in  any  wa}'." 

"  I  shall  belong  to  it !  "  cried  Joseph,  wrenching  himself 
from  Huriel's  arms  and  showing  as  he  did  so  his  torn  shirt 
and  bleeding  breast.  "  I  shall  belong  to  it  in  spite  of 
you  !  I  insist  that  the  fight  shall  go  on,  and  one  of  us 
be  left  in  this  cavern." 

"  I  forbid  it !  "  said  the  Head- Woodsman,  "and  I  insist 
that  this  3'oung  man  shall  be  proclaimed  victor,  or  I  swear 
to  bring  into  this  place  a  compau}'  of  bagpipers  who  shall 
teach  you  how  to  behave,  and  who  will  see  justice  done." 

"You?"  said  Dore-Fratin,  drawing  a  sort  of  boar- 
knife  from  his  belt.  "You  can  do  so  if  3'ou  choose,  but 
3'ou  shall  carry  with  3'ou  some  marks  on  your  body,  so 
that  people  ma}'  believe  your  reports." 

The  Head-Woodsman  and  Huriel  put  themselves  in  an 
attitude  of  defence.  Joseph  flung  himself  upon  Fratin  to 
get  awa}'  his  knife,  and  I  made  one  bound  in  amongst 
them.  But  before  any  of  us  could  strike  a  blow  the  figure 
that  startled  me  so  in  the  upper  cavern  appeared  at  the 
opening  of  the  lower  one,  stretched  forth  his  lance,  and 
slowly  advanced  in  a  way  to  strike  terror  to  the  minds  of 
the  evil-doers.     Then,  as  they  all  paused,  dumbfounded 


The  Bagpipers.  379 

with  fear  and  amazement,  a  piteous  voice  was  heard  from 
the  depths  of  the  dungeon,  reciting  the  pra3'ers  for  the 
dead. 

This  routed  the  whole  brotherhood.  One  of  the  pipers 
cried  out:  "The  dead!  the  dead  are  rising!"  and  they 
all  fled,  pell-mell,  j-elling  and  pushing  through  the  various 
openings  except  that  to  the  dungeon,  where  stood  another 
figure  wrapped  in  a  winding-sheet,  chanting  the  most  dis- 
mal sing-song  that  anybody  ever  heard.  A  minute  later 
all  our  enemies  had  disappeared,  and  the  warrior  flinging 
off  his  helmet  and  mask,  we  beheld  the  jovial  face  of 
Benoit,  while  the  monk,  getting  out  of  his  winding  sheet, 
was  holding  his  sides  in  convulsions  of  laughter. 

"  May  God  forgive  me  for  masquerading,"  he  said.  "  I 
did  it  with  the  best  intentions  ;  those  rascals  deserve  a 
good  lesson,  if  it  is  only  to  teach  them  not  to  laugh  at  the 
devil,  of  whom  the}'  are  really  more  afraid  than  those 
whom  they  threaten  with  him." 

"  For  my  part,  I  felt  quite  certain,"  said  Benoit,  "  that 
our  comed}'  would  put  an  end  to  theirs."  Then,  noticing 
Joseph's  wounds,  he  grew  very  uneasy,  and  showed  such 
feeling  for  him  that  all  this,  together  with  the  succor  he 
had  brought  in  so  timely  a  manner,  proved  to  my  mind 
his  regard  for  his  step-son,  and  his  good  heart,  which  I  had 
hitherto  doubted. 

While  we  examined  Joseph  and  convinced  ourselves  he 
was  not  very  seriously  hurt,  the  monk  told  us  how  the 
butler  at  the  castle  had  once  said  to  him  that  he  allowed 
the  bagpipers  and  other  societies  to  hold  their  secret  meet- 
ings in  the  cellars  of  the  castle.  Those  in  which  we  found 
ourselves  were  too  far  from  the  inhabited  parts  of  the 
castle  to  disturb  the  lady  mistress  of  Saint-Chartier, 
and,    indeed,   if  it  had,    she   would  only  have  laughed, 


380  The  Bagpipers. 

not  imagining  that  any  mischief  could  come  of  it.  But 
Benoit,  who  suspected  some  evil  intent,  had  got  the  same 
butler  to  give  him  a  key  to  the  cellars,  and  a  disguise  ; 
and  that  was  how  it  was  that  he  got  these  in  time  to  avert 
all  danger. 

"Well,"  said  the  Head-Woodsman,  addressing  him, 
"  thank  3'ou  for  3'our  assistance;  but  I  rather  regret  j'ou 
came,  for  those  fellows  are  capable  of  declaring  that  I 
asked  you  to  do  so  and  consequently  that  I  betrajTd  the 
secrets  of  the  guild.  If  you  will  take  my  advice  we  had 
better  get  away  noiselessly,  at  once,  and  leave  them  to 
think  3'ou  were  really  ghosts." 

"  All  the  more,"  added  Benoit,  "  that  their  wrath  may 
deprive  me  of  their  custom,  which  is  no  slight  matter.  I 
hope  they  did  not  recognize  Tiennet  —  but  how  the  devil 
was  it  that  Tiennet  got  here  in  the  nick  of  time  ?  " 

"  Didn't  you  bring  him?  "  asked  Huriel. 

"That  he  didn't,"  said  I.  "I  came  on  my  own  ac- 
count, because  of  the  stories  they  tell  of  your  deviltries. 
I  was  curious  to  see  them  ;  but  I  swear  to  3'ou  those  fel- 
lows were  too  scared  and  the  sight  of  their  eyes  was  too 
wide  of  the  mark  ever  to  have  recognized  me." 

We  were  about  to  leave  when  the  sound  of  angry  voices 
and  an  uproar  like  that  of  a  fight  was  heard. 

"  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  the  monk,  "  what  's  that  now?  I 
think  they  are  coming  back  and  we  have  not  3^et  done  with 
them.     Quick,  let 's  get  back  into  our  disguises  !  " 

"No,"  said  Benoit,  listening,  "I  know  what  it  is.  I 
met,  as  I  came  along  through  the  castle  cellars,  four  or 
.five  young  fellows,  one  of  whom  is  known  to  me  ;  and  that 
■is  Leonard,  your  Bourbonnais  wood-chopper,  Pere  Bastien. 
These  lads  were  there  from  curiosity  no  doubt ;  but  the3'" 
had  got  bewildered  in  the  caverns,  and  I  lent  them  m3' 


The  Bagpipers.  381 

lantern,  telling  them  to  wait  for  me.     The  bagpipers  must 
have  met  them  and  they  are  giving  chase." 

"  It  is  more  likeh'that  they  are  being  chased  themselves 
if  there  are  not  more  than  five  of  them,"  said  HurieL 
"  Let  ns  go  and  see." 

We  were  just  starting  when  the  noise  and  the  footsteps 
approached,  and  Carnat,  Dore-Fratin,  and  eight  others  re- 
turned to  the  cave,  having,  in  fact,  exchanged  a  few  blows 
with  our  comrades,  and  finding  that  they  had  to  do  with 
real  flesh  and  blood  instead  of  spectres,  were  ashamed  of 
their  cowardice  and  so  came  back  again.    The}'  reproached 
the  Huriels  for  having  betrayed    them  and  driven   them 
into  an    ambush.     The   Head-Woodsman   defended  him- 
self, and  the  monk  tried  to  secure  peace  by  taking  it  all 
upon  himself,  telling  the  bagpipers  to  repent  of  their  sins. 
But  the}^  felt  themselves  in  good  force,  for  others  kept 
coming  back  to  their  support ;  and  when  they  found  their 
numbers  nearly  complete  they  raised  their  voices  to  a  roar, 
and  went  from  reproaches  to  threats  and  from  threats  to 
blows.     Seeing  there  was  no  wa}'  to  avoid  an  encounter, 
all  the  more  because  they  had  drunk  a  good  deal  of  brandy 
while  the  tests  were  going  on  and  were  more  or  less  in- 
toxicated,  we  put   ourselves   in  an    attitude  of  defence, 
pressing  one  against  the  other,  and  showing  front  to  the 
enemy  on  all  sides,  like  oxen  when  a  troop  of  wolves  at- 
tack them  at  pasture.     The  monk,  having  alread}'  lost  his 
morality  and  his  Latin,  now  lost  his  patience  also,  and 
seizing  the  pipe  of  an  instrument  which  had  got  broken  in 
the  scrimmage,  he  laid  about  him  as  hard  as  a  man  well 
could,  in  defence  of  his  own  skin. 

Unluckil}^  Joseph  was  weakened  by  the  loss  of  blood, 
and  Huriel,  who  bore  upon  his  heart  the  recollection  of 
Malzac's  death,  was  more  fearful  of  giving  blows  than  of 


382  The  Bagpipers. 

receiving  them.  Anxious  to  protect  his  father,  who  sprang 
into  the  fra}^  hke  an  old  lion,  he  put  himself  in  great 
danger.  Benoit  fought  very  well  for  a  man  who  was  just 
out  of  an  illness  ;  but  the  truth  is  we  were  only  six  against 
fifteen  or  sixteen,  and  as  the  blood  rose  anger  cp.me,  and 
I  saw  our  enemies  opening  their  knives.  I  had  onl}"  time 
to  fling  myself  before  the  Head-Woodsman,  who,  still  un- 
willing to  draw  his  blade,  was  the  object  of  their  bitterest 
anger.  I  received  a  wound  in  the  arm,  which  I  hardly 
felt  at  the  moment,  but  which  hindered  my  fighting  on, 
and  I  thought  the  day  was  lost,  when,  by  great  good  luck, 
my  four  comrades  decided  to  come  and  see  what  the  noise 
was  about.  The  reinforcement  was  sufficient,  and  together 
we  put  to  flight,  for  the  second  time  and  the  last,  our  ex- 
hausted enemies,  taken  in  the  rear  and  ignorant  how  many 
were  upon  them. 

I  saw  that  victor}'  was  ours  and  that  none  of  m}'  friends 
were  much  hurt ;  then,  suddenly  perceiving  that  I  had  got 
more  than  I  wanted,  I  fell  like  a  log  and  neither  knew  nor 
felt  another  thing. 


The  Bagpipers.  383 


'      THIRTY-SECOND   EVENING. 

When  I  came  to  my  senses  I  found  mj^self  in  the  same 
bed  with  Joseph,  and  it  took  me  some  time  to  recover  full 
consciousness.  "When  I  did,  I  saw  I  was  in  Benoit's  own 
room,  that  the  bed  was  good,  the  sheets  very  white,  and 
my  arm  bound  up  after  a  bleeding.  The  sun  was  shining 
through  the  yellow  bed-curtains,  and,  except  for  a  sense 
of  weakness,  I  felt  no  ill.  I  turned  to  Joseph,  who  was  a 
good  deal  cut  about  the  head,  but  in  no  way  to  disfigure 
him,  and  who  said,  as  he  kissed  me  :  "  Well,  m}'  Tiennet, 
here  we  are,  as  in  the  old  daj's,  when  we  fought  the  boys 
of  Verneuil  on  our  way  back  from  catechism,  and  were 
left  lying  together  at  the  bottom  of  a  ditch.  You  have 
protected  me  to  your  hurt,  just  as  you  did  then,  and  I  can 
never  thank  you  as  I  ought ;  but  you  know,  and  I  think 
you  always  knew,  that  my  heart  is  not  as  churlish  as  my 
tongue." 

"  I  have  alwaj's  known  it,"  I  replied,  returning  his  kiss, 
"  and  if  I  have  again  protected  3'ou  I  am  ver}'  glad  of  it. 
But  you  must  n't  take  too  much  for  yourself.  I  had  an- 
other motive  — " 

Here  I  stopped,  fearing  I  might  give  way  and  let  out 
Therence's  name ;  but  just  then  a  white  hand  drew  back 
the  curtain,  and  there  I  saw  a  vision  of  Therence  herself, 
leaning  towards  me,  while  Mariton  went  round  between 
the  bed  and  the  wall  to  kiss  and  question  her  son. 

Therence  bent  over  me,  as  I  said  ;  and  I,  quite  over- 
come and  thinking  I  was  dreaming,  tried  to  rise  and  thank 


384  The  Bagpiijers. 

her  for  her  visit  and  assure  her  I  was  out  of  danger,  when 
there  !  hke  a  sick  fool  and  blushing  like  a  girl,  I  received 
from  her  lips  the  finest  kiss  that  ever  recalled  the  dead. 

"What  are  3-ou  doing,  Therence?"  I  cried,  grasping 
her  hands,  which  I  could  almost  have  eaten  up.  "  Do  you 
want  to  make  me  crazy  ?  " 

"I  want  to  thank  j^ou  and  love  3'ou  all  my  life,"  she 
answered,  "  for  you  have  kept  3^our  word  to  me  ;  3'ou  have 
brought  m}"  father  and  m^^  brother  back  to  me  safe  and 
sound,  and  I  know  that  all  that  3'ou  have  done,  all  that  has 
happened  to  you,  is  because  yon  loved  them  and  loved  me. 
Therefore  I  am  here  to  nurse  3'ou  and  not  to  leave  3'ou  as 
long  as  3'ou  are  ill." 

"Ah,  that's  good,  Therence  !  "  I  said,  sighing;  "  it  is 
more  than  I  deserve.  Please  God  not  to  let  me  get  well, 
for  I  don't  know  what  would  become  of  me  afterwards." 

"Afterwards?"  said  Pere  Bastien,  coming  into  the 
room  with  Huriel  and  Brulette.  "  Come,  daughter,  what 
shall  we  do  with  him  afterwards  ?  " 

"  Afterwards?"  said  Therence,  blushing  scarlet  for  the 
first  time. 

"Yes,  Therence  the  Sincere,"  returned  her  father, 
"speak  as   becomes  a  girl  who   never  lies." 

"  Well,  father,  then  afterioards^  I  will  never  leave  him, 
either,"  she  said. 

"  Go  awaj',  all  of  3'ou  !  "  I  cried  ;  "  close  the  curtains  ; 
I  want  to  get  up  and  dress  and  dance  and  sing.  I  'm  not 
ill ;  I  have  paradise  inside  of  me  —  "  and  so  sa3'ing  I  fell 
back  in  a  faint,  and  saw  and  knew  nothing  more,  except 
that  I  felt,  in  a  kind  of  a  dream,  that  Therence  was  hold- 
ing me  in  her  arms  and  giving  me  remedies. 

In  the  evening  I  felt  better ;  Joseph  w^as  alread3"  about, 
and  I  might  have  been,  too,  onl3^  the3'  would  n't  let  me ; 


The  Bagpipers.  385 

and  I  was  made  to  spend  the  evening  in  bed,  while  the 
rest  sat  and  talked  in  the  room,  and  my  Thereuce,  sitting 
b}'  my  pillow,  listened  tenderl}'  to  what  I  said,  letting  me 
ponr  out  in  words  all  the  balm  that  was  in  ni}'  heart. 

The  monk  talked  with  Benoit,  the  pair  washing  down 
their  conversation  with  several  jorums  of  white  wine,  which 
they  swallowed  under  the  guise  of  a  restorative  medicine. 
Huriel  and  Brulette  were  together  in  a  corner ;  Joseph 
with  his  mother  and  the  Head-Woodsman  in  another. 

Huriel  was  saying  to  Brulette:  "I  told  you,  the  very 
first  day  I  saw  3'ou,  when  I  showed  you  3^our  token  in  my 
earring,  that  it  should  stay  there  forever  unless  the  ear 
itself  came  off.  Well,  the  ear,  though  slit  in  the  fight,  is 
still  there,  and  the  token,  though  rather  bent,  is  in  the  ear 
—  see!  The  wound  will  heal,  the  token  can  be  mended, 
and  everything  will  come  all  right,  by  the  grace  of  God." 

Mariton  was  saying  to  Pere  Bastien :  "  What  is  going 
to  be  the  result  of  this  fight?  Those  men  are  capable  of 
murdering  my  poor  boy  if  he  attempts  to  play  his  bagpipe 
in  this  region." 

"  No,"  replied  Pere  Bastien,  "  all  has  happened  for  the 
best;  the}'  have  had  a  good  lesson,  and  there  were  wit- 
nesses enough  outside  of  the  brotherhood  to  keep  them 
from  venturing  to  attack  Joseph  or  an}'  of  us  again.  They 
are  capable  of  doing  harm  when,  b}'  force  or  persuasion, 
they  have  brought  the  candidate  to  take  an  oath.  But 
Joseph  took  none  ;  he  will,  however,  be  silent  because  he 
is  generous.  Tiennet  will  do  the  same,  and  so  will  our 
young  woodsmen  by  my  advice  and  order.  But  your  bag- 
pipers know  very  well  that  if  the}'  touch  a  hair  of  our 
heads  all  tongues  will  be  loosened  and  the  affair  brought 
to  justice." 

And  the  monk  was  saying  to  Benoit :  "  I  can't  laugh  as 

25 


386  The  Bagpipers. 

you  do  about  the  adventure,  for  I  got  into  a  passion  which 
compels  me  to  confess  and  do  penance.  I  can  forgive 
them  the  blows  they  tried  to  give  me,  but  not  those  they 
forced  me  to  give  them.  Ah  !  the  prior  of  m}^  convent  is 
right  enough  to  taunt  me  with  my  temper,  and  tell  me  I 
ought  to  combat  not  onlj^  the  old  Adam  in  me  but  the  old 
peasant  too,  —  that  is,  the  man  within  me  who  loves  wine 
and  fighting.  Wine,"  continued  the  monk,  sighing,  and 
filling  his  glass  to  the  brim,  "is  conquered,  thank  God! 
but  I  discovered  this  night  that  my  blood  is  as  quarrelsome 
as  ever,  and  that  a  mere  tap  could  make  me  furious." 

"  But  were  n't  3'ou  in  a  position  of  legitimate  defence?  " 
said  Benoit.  "  Come,  come;  you  spoke  to  those  fellows 
in  a  proper  manner,  and  you  did  n't  strike  till  3'ou  were 
obliged  to." 

"  That's  all  very  true,"  replied  the  friar,  "  but  my  evil 
genius  the  prior  will  ask  me  questions,  —  he  '11  pump  the 
truth  out  of  me  ;  and  I  shall  be  forced  to  confess  that  in- 
stead of  doing  it  regretfulh',  I  was  carried  awa}'  with  the 
pleasure  of  striking  like  a  sledge-hammer,  forgetting  I  had 
a  cassock  on  my  back  and  thinking  of  the  days  when, 
keeping  my  flocks  in  the  Bourbonnais  pastures,  I  went  about 
quarrelling  with  the  other  shepherds  for  the  mere  earthl}^ 
vanity  of  proving  I  was  the  strongest  and  most  obstinate 
of  them  all." 

Joseph  was  silent ;  no  doubt  he  felt  badlj'  at  seeing  two 
such  happ3'  couples  without  the  right  to  sulk  at  them, 
after  receiving  such  good  support  from  Huriel  and  me. 
The  Head- Woodsman,  who  had  a  tender  spot  in  his  heart 
for  the  fellow  on  account  of  his  music,  kept  talking  to  him 
of  glory.  Joseph  made  great  efforts  to  witness  the  happi- 
ness of  others  without  showing  jealousy ;  and  we  had  to 
admit  that,  proud  and  cold  as  he  was,  there  was  in  him  an 


The  Bagpipers.  887 

uncommon  force  of  will  for  self-conqnest.  He  remained 
hidden,  as  I  did,  for  some  time  in  his  mother's  house,  till 
the  marks  of  the  fra}'  were  effaced ;  for  the  secret  of  the 
whole  affair  was  very  well  kept  by  my  comrades,  though 
Leonard,  who  behaved  very  boldly  and  yet  judiciously, 
threatened  the  bagpipers  to  reveal  all  to  the  authorities  of 
the  canton,  if  they  did  not  conduct  themselves  peacefully. 
When  we  all  got  about  again  it  was  found  that  no  one 
was  seriousl}'  damaged,  except  Fere  Carnat,  whose  wrist, 
as  it  proved,  I  had  dislocated,  and  a  parlej'  and  settlement 
ensued.  It  was  agreed  that  Joseph  should  have  certain 
parishes ;  and  he  had  them  assigned  to  him,  though  with 
no  intention  of  using  his  privilege. 

I  was  rather  more  ill  than  I  thought  for ;  not  so  much 
on  account  of  m\'  wound,  which  was  not  severe,  nor  3'et  of 
the  blows  that  had  been  rained  on  my  bod}',  but  because  of 
the  bleeding  the  monk  had  done  to  me  with  the  best  inten- 
tions.' a  Huriel  and  Brulette  had  the  charming  amiability 
to  put  off  their  marriage  till  ours  could  take  place  ;  and  a 
mouth  later,  the  two  weddings  were  celebrated,  —  in  fact, 
there  were  three,  for  Benoit  wished  to  acknowledge  his 
publich',  and  to  celebrate  the  occasion  with  us.  The 
worth}'  man,  delighted  to  have  had  his  heir  so  well  taken 
care  of  by  Brulette,  tried  to  get  her  to  accept  a  gift  of 
some  consequence,  but  she  steadily  refused,  and  throwing 
herself  into  Mariton's  arms  she  said:  "Remember  that 
this  dear  woman  was  a  mother  to  me  for  more  than  a  dozen 
years  ;  do  you  think  I  can  take  mone}'  when  I  am  not  yet 
out  of  her  debt?  " 

"That  maybe,"  said  Mariton,  "  but  3'our  bringing  up 
was  nothing  but  honor  and  profit  to  me,  whereas  that  of 
my  Chariot  brought  3'ou  trouble  and  insult." 

"  M}'  dear  friend,"  replied  Brulette,  "that  very  fact  is 


388  The  Bagpipers. 

all  that  evens  our  account.  I  would  glacll}'  have  made 
3^our  Jose  happy  in  return  for  all  3'our  goodness  to  me ; 
but  that  did  not  depend  on  m}^  poor  heart,  and  so  to  com- 
pensate you  for  the  grief  I  caused  him,  I  was  bound  to 
suffer  all  I  did  for  your  other  child." 

"  There  's  a  girl  for  you  !  "  cried  Benoit,  wiping  his  big 
round  eyes,  which  were  not  used  to  shed  tears.  "  Yes,  3-es, 
indeed,  there 's  a  girl !  —  "  and  he  could  n't  say  any  more. 

To  get  even  with  Brulette,  he  was  determined  to  pay 
all  the  costs  of  her  wedding,  and  mine  into  the  bargain. 
As  he  spared  nothing  and  invited  at  least  two  hundred 
guests,  it  cost  him  a  prettj-  sum,  which  he  paid  without 
a  murmur. 

The  monk  promised  faithfull}^  to  be  present,  all  the 
more  because  the  prior  had  kept  him  on  bread  and  water 
for  a  month  and  the  embargo  on  his  gullet  was  raised  the 
YQvy  day  of  the  wedding.  He  did  not  abuse  his  libertj', 
however,  and  behaved  in  such  a  pleasant  wa}^  that  we  all 
became  as  fast  friends  with  him  as  Huriel  and  Benoit  had 
previously  been. 

Joseph  kept  up  his  courage  till  the  day  of  the  wedding. 
In  the  morning  he  was  pale,  and  apparently  deep  in 
thought ;  but  as  we  left  the  church  he  took  the  bagpipe 
from  my  father-in-law's  hand,  and  played  a  wedding 
march  which  he  had  composed  that  verj'  night  in  our 
honor.  It  was  such  a  beautiful  piece  of  music,  and  was 
so  applauded,  that  his  gloom  disappeared,  and  he  played 
triumphantly  his  best  dance  airs  all  the  evening,  and  quite 
forgot  himself  and  his  troubles  the  whole  time  the  festivities 
lasted. 

He  followed  us  back  to  Chassin,  and  there  the  Head- 
Woodsman,  having  settled  his  affairs,  addressed  us  one 
and  all,  as  follows  :  — 


Tlie  Bagpipers.  389 

"  M}'  children,  you  are  now  happy,  and  rich  for  countr}' 
folks  ;  I  leave  3"ou  the  business  of  this  forest,  which  is  a 
good  one,  and  all  I  possess  elsewhere  is  3'ours.  You  can 
spend  the  rest  of  the  season  here,  and  during  that  time 
3-0U  can  decide  on  3'our  plans  for  the  future.  You  belong 
to  different  parts  of  the  country- ;  3'our  tastes  and  habits 
are  not  alike.  Tr3',  m3'  sons,  both  of  you,  to  find  what 
kind  of  life  will  make  your  wives  happ3'  and  keep  them 
from  regretting  their  marriages  now  so  well  begun.  I 
shall  return  within  a  3'ear.  Let  me  have  two  fine  grand- 
children to  welcome  me.  You  can  then  tell  me  what  3^ou 
have  decided  to  do.  Take  3'our  time  ;  a  thing  that  seems 
good  to-da3^  ma3^  seem  worse,  or  better,  to-morrow." 

''^  Where  are  going,  father?"  said  Therence,  clasping 
him  in  her  arms  in  fear. 

''  I  am  going  to  travel  about  with  Joseph,  and  pla3"  our 
music  as  we  go,"  answered  Pere  Bastien.  "  He  needs 
it ;  and  as  for  me,  I  have  hungered  for  it  these  thirt3* 
3'ears." 

Neither  tears  nor  entreaties  could  keep  him,  and  that  even- 
ing we  escorted  them  half  wa3'  to  Saint  Severe.  There, 
as  we  embraced  Pere  Bastien  with  man3'  tears,  Joseph  said 
to  us  :  "  Don't  be  unhapp3\  I  know  ver3'  well  he  is  sac- 
rificing the  sight  of  your  happiness  to  m3^  good,  for  he  has 
a  father's  heart  for  me  and  knows  I  am  the  most  to  be 
pitied  of  his  children ;  but  perhaps  I  shall  not  need  him 
long ;  and  I  have  an  idea  3'ou  will  see  him  sooner  than  he 
thinks  for.'*  Then  he  added,  kneeling  before  m3^  wife  and 
Huriel's,  "  Dear  sisters,  I  have  offended  both  of  3'ou,  and 
I  have  been  punished  enough  b3'  m3'  own  thoughts.  "Will 
you  not  forgive  me,  so  that  I  may  forgive  myself  and  go 
awa3'  more  peacefully?" 

They  both  kissed  him  with  the  utmost  affection,  and 


390  The  Bagpipers. 

then  he  came  to  each  of  us,  and  said,  with  surprising 
warmtli  of  heart,  the  l^indest  and  most  affectionate  words 
he  had  ever  said  in  his  life,  begging  us  to  forgive  his 
faults  and  to  hold  him  in  remembrance. 

We  stood  on  a  hill  to  watch  them  as  long  as  possible. 
Pere  Bastien  played  vigorously  on  his  bagpipe,  turning 
round  from  time  to  time  to  wave  his  cap  and  blow  kisses 
with  his  hand. 

Joseph  did  not  turn  round ;  he  walked  in  silence,  with 
his  head  down  as  if  in  thought  or  in  grief.  I  could  not 
help  saying  to  Huriel  that  I  saw  on  his  face  as  he  left  us 
that  strange  look  I  had  seen  in  his  childhood,  which,  in 
our  parts,  is  thought  the  sign  of  a  man  doomed  to  evil. 

Our  tears  were  dried,  little  b}'  little,  in  the  sunshine  of 
happiness  and  hope.  My  beautiful  dear  wife  made  a  greater 
effort  than  the  rest  of  us,  for  never  before  being  parted 
from  her  father,  she  seemed  to  have  lost  a  portion  of  her 
soul  in  losing  him  ;  and  I  saw  that  in  spite  of  her  courage, 
her  love  for  me,  and  the  happiness  she  felt  in  the  prospect 
of  becoming  a  mother,  there  was  alwa3's  something  lack- 
ing for  which  she  sighed  in  secret.  So  m}^  mind  was 
constantly  turning  on  how  to  arrange  our  lives  to  live  in 
future  with  Pere  Bastien,  were  it  even  necessary  to  sell  my 
property,  give  up  my  family,  and  follow  my  wife  wherever 
she  wished  to  live. 

It  was  just  the  same  with  Brulette,  who  was  determined 
to  consult  only  her  husband's  tastes,  specially  when  her 
old  grandfather,  after  a  brief  illness,  died  quieth',  as  he 
had  lived,  protected  by  the  care  and  love  of  his  dear 
daughter. 

"Tiennet,"  she  often  said  to  me,  "I  see  plainly'  that 
Berry  must  give  waj'  to  the  Bourbonnais  in  you  and  me. 
Huriel  is  too  fond  of  this  free,  strong  life  and  change  of 


The  Bagpipers.  391 

air  to  endure  our  sleep}'  plains.  He  makes  me  so  happ}'  I 
will  never  let  him  feel  a  secret  pain.  I  have  no  family 
now  in  our  parts  ;  all  m}'  friends  there,  except  3'ou,  have 
hurt  me  ;  I  live  only  for  Huriel.  Where  he  is  happy  there 
I  am  happiest." 

The  winter  found  us  still  in  the  forest  of  Chassin.  We 
had  stripped  that  beautiful  region  of  its  beauty,  for  the 
old  oak  wood  was  its  finest  feature.  The  snow  covered 
the  prostrate  bodies  of  the  noble  trees,  flung  head-foremost 
into  the  river,  which  held  them,  cold  and  dead,  in  its  ice. 
One  morning  Huriel  and  I  were  lunching  beside  a  fire  of 
brushwood  which  our  wives  had  lighted  to  warm  our  soup, 
and  we  were  looking  at  them  with  delight,  for  both  were 
in  a  fair  way  to  keep  the  promise  they  had  made  to  P^re 
Bastien  to  give  him  descendants,  when  suddenly  they 
both  cried  out,  and  Therence,  forgetting  she  was  not  so 
light  as  she  once  was,  sprang  almost  across  the  fire  to  kiss 
a  man  whom  the  smoke  of  damp  leaves  had  hidden  from 
our  sight.  It  was  her  good  father,  who  soon  had  neither 
arms  nor  lips  enough  to  reply  to  our  welcome.  After  the 
first  jo}'  was  over,  we  asked  him  about  Joseph,  and  then 
his  face  darkened  and  his  e3'es  filled  with  tears. 

"  He  told  3'ou  that  you  would  see  me  sooner  than  I 
expected,"  said  Pere  Bastion,  sadly  ;  "  he  may  have  had  a 
presentiment  of  his  fate,  and  God,  who  softened  the  hard 
shell  of  his  heart  at  that  moment,  no  doubt  counselled 
him  to  reflect  upon  himself." 

We  dared  not  inquire  further.  Pere  Bastien  sat  down, 
opened  his  sack  and  drew  forth  the  pieces  of  a  broken 
bagpipe. 

"  This  is  all  that  remains  of  that  poor  lad,"  he  said. 
"  He  could  not  escape  his  star.  I  thought  I  had  softened 
his  pride,  but,  alas !  in  everything  connected  with  music 


392  The  Bac/j){pers. 

he  grew  dail}'  more  hanght}-  and  morose.  Perhaps  it  was 
m}'  fault.  I  tried  to  console  him  for  his  love  troubles  by 
proving  to  him  the  happiness  of  his  art.  From  me,  at 
least,  he  got  the  sweets  of  praise,  but  the  more  he  sucked 
them  the  greater  his  thirst.  We  went  far,  —  as  far  even 
as  the  mountains  of  the  Morvan,  where  there  are  many 
bagpipers  as  jealous  as  those  in  these  parts,  not  so  much 
for  their  selfish  interests  as  for  their  conceit  in  their 
talents.  Joseph  was  imprudent ;  he  used  language  that 
offended  them  at  a  supper  to  which  they  hospitabl}'  invited 
him  with  the  kindest  intentions.  Unhappih',  I  was  not 
there  ;  not  feeling  verj'  well,  and  having  no  reason  to  fear 
a  misunderstanding,  I  stayed  away.  He  was  absent  all 
night,  but  that  often  happened,  and  as  I  had  noticed  he  was 
rather  jealous  of  the  applause  people  were  pleased  to  give 
to  my  old  ditties,  I  was  apt  not  to  go  with  him.  In  the 
morning  I  went  out,  still  not  feeling  well,  and  I  heard  in 
the  village  that  a  broken  bagpipe  had  been  picked  up  at 
the  edge  of  a  pond.  I  ran  to  see  it,  and  knew  it  at  a 
glance.  Then  I  went  to  the  place  where  it  was  found, 
and  breaking  the  ice  of  the  pond,  I  found  his  poor  bod3% 
quite  frozen.  There  were  no  marks  of  violence  on  it,  and 
the  bagpipers  swore  that  they  had  parted  from  him,  so- 
berly and  without  a  quarrel,  about  a  league  from  the  spot.  I 
searched  in  vain  for  the  cause  of  his  death.  The  place  was 
in  a  very  wild  region,  where  the  law  fears  the  peasant  and 
the  peasant  fears  nought  but  the  devil.  I  was  forced  to 
content  myself  with  their  foolish  remarks  and  reasons. 
In  those  parts  they  firmly  believe  a  great  deal  that  we 
should  laugh  at  here  ;  for  instance,  they  think  3'ou  can't 
be  a  musician  without  selling  3'our  soul  to  hell ;  and  that 
Satan  tears  the  bagpipe  from  the  player's  hands  and  breaks 
it  upon  his  back,  which  drives  him  wild  and  maddens  him, 


The  Bagpipers.  393 

and  then  he  kills  himself.  That  is  how  they  explain  the 
revenge  which  bagpipers  often  take  upon  each  other ;  and 
the  latter  never  contradict,  for  it  suits  them  to  be  feared 
and  to  escape  all  consequences.  Indeed,  all  musicians  are 
held  in  such  fear  and  disrepute  that  I  could  get  no  atten- 
tion to  my  complaints,  and  if  I  had  remained  in  the  neigh- 
borhood I  might  even  have  been  accused  of  summoning 
the  devil  to  rid  me  of  m}'  companion." 

"  Alas!"  said  Brulette,  weeping,  "  my  poor  Jose,  my 
poor  dear  companion  !  Good  God,  what  are  we  to  say  to 
his  mother?" 

"  We  must  tell  her,"  said  Pere  Bastien,  sadlj^  "  not  to 
let  Chariot  take  a  fancy  to  music.  It  is  too  harsh  a  mis- 
tress for  folks  like  us  ;  we  have  not  head  enough  to  stand 
on  the  heights  to  which  it  leads  without  turning  giddy." 

"Oh,  father!"  cried  Therence,  "if  you  would  only 
give  it  up  !  God  knows  what  misfortunes  it  ma\"  3-et  bring 
upon  you." 

"Be  comforted,  my  darling,"  said  Pere  Bastien,  "I 
have  given  it  up !  I  return  to  live  with  my  famih',  to  be 
happy  with  m}'  grandchildren,  whom  I  dream  of  already 
as  they  dance  at  my  knee.  Where  shall  we  settle  our- 
selves, my  dear  children?" 

''  Where  you  wish,"  said  Therence. 
Where  our  husbands  wish,"  said  Brulette. 

•'  Where  my  wife  wishes-/'  I  cried. 

■'  Where  you  all  wish,''  said  Huriel. 

■'Well,"  said  Pere  Bastien,  "  as  I  know  3'our  likings 
and  3'our  means,  and  as,  moreover,  I  bring  you  back  a  bit 
of  mone}^,  I  've  been  thinking  as  I  trudged  along  that  we 
could  all  be  satisfied.  When  j'ou  wish  the  peach  to  ripen 
you  mustn't  pull  out  the  stone.  The  peach-stone  is  the 
propert}^  which  Tiennet  owns  at  Nohant.     We  will  buy 


394  The  Bagpipers. 

other  land  that  adjoins  it,  and  build  a  good  house  for  all 
of  us.  I  shall  be  content  to  watch  the  wheat-fields,  —  glad 
not  to  fell  God's  noble  trees,  but  to  make  mv  little  sonsfs 
in  the  olden  fashion,  at  evening,  bj-  m}-  door,  among  mine 
own,  instead  of  drinking  the  wine  of  others  and  making 
jealousies.  Huriel  likes  to  roam,  and  his  wife,  just  now, 
is  of  the  same  turn  of  mind.  They  can  undertake  such 
enterprises  as  we  have  now  finished  in  this  forest  (where 
I  see  you  have  worked  well),  and  they  can  spend  the  fine 
season  in  the  woods.  If  their  3'oung  family  is  in  the  way, 
Therence  has  strength  and  heart  enough  to  manage  a 
double  nest,  and  3'ou  will  all  meet  together  in  the  autumn 
with  increased  pleasure,  until  m}^  son,  long  after  he  has 
closed  my  ej-es,  will  feel  the  need  of  resting  all  the  year 
round,  as  I  feel  it  now." 

All  that  my  father-in-law  said  came  to  pass,  just  as  he 
advised  and  prophesied.  The  good  God  blessed  our  obe- 
dience ;  and  as  life  is  a  pasty  mixed  of  sadness  and  con- 
tent, poor  Mariton  often  came  to  us  to  weep,  and  the 
worthy  monk,  as  often,  came  to  laugh. 


THE  ENT). 


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Ninety-Three,  1  voL 
Notre  Dame,  2  vols. 


The  Man  who  Laughs,  2  vols. 
Hans  of  Iceland,  1  voL 
Bug-Jargal,  Claude  Gueux,  Last 
Day  of  a  Condemned,  etc  1  voL 


SAMUEL  LOVER'S  NOVELS 

ITH    photogravure    frontispieces.       4  vols.     12mo. 

Decorated   cloth,  gilt  top,  in  box,  S4.00.      Half 

crushed  morocco,  gilt  top,  SI  1.00. 

Rory  O'More,  1  vol.  Handy  Andy,  1  vol. 

Treasure  Trove,  1  voL  Legends  of  Ireland,  1  vol. 


HANDY    LIBRARY    SETS 


THE    NOVELS   AND   ROMANCES    OF 
EDWARD   BULWER  LYTTON 

(liOBD   LYTTON) 

^^^TH  40  plates,  etched  bj  W.  H.  W.  Bicknell,  from 
drawings  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett.     31  vols.    12mo. 
Decorated  cloth,  gilt  top,  $31.00.     Half  crushed  morocco, 
gilt  top,  $85.25. 

The  Gaxton  Novels  Bomances 

The  Caxtons,  2  vols.  Eugene  Aram,  1  voL 

My  Novel,  3  vols.  Pilgrims  of  the    Rhine,   Leila, 

What  will  He  do  with  It?  2  vols.  and  Calderon,  etc.,  1  vol. 

Novels  of  life  and  Manners  Zanoni,  and  Zicci,  1  voL 

Pelham,  and  Falkland,  2  vols.  ^  Strange    Story,    and    The 

The  Disowned,  1  voL  Haunted    and   the  Haunters, 

Paul  Clifford,  1  vol.  ^  "^^^ 

Godolphin,  1  voL  Historical  Bomances 

Ernest  Maltravers,  1  voL  Devereux,  1  vol. 

Alice,  1  voL  Last  Days  of  Pompeii,  1  vol. 

Night  and  Morning,  1  voL  Rienzi,  1  voL 

Lucretia,  1  voL  Last  of  the  Barons,  2  vols. 

Kenelm  Chillingly,  eta,  2  vols.  Harold,  1  voL 

The  Parisians,  2  vols.  p^^  ^^  j^^^^  ^  ^^^ 

THE  NOVELS  AND  POEMS  OF 
GEORGE  ELIOT 

\\f  ITH  10  photogravure  plates  and  10  full-page  pictures 

in  half-tone.    10  vols.    12mo.    Decorated  cloth,  gilt 

top,  in  box,  $10.00.   Half  crushed  moroc*co,  gilt  top,  $27.50. 

Romola,  1  vol.  Scenes    of  Clerical    Life,    Silas 
Adam  Bede,  1  voL  Mamer,  etc.,  1  vol. 

The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  1  voL  Middlemarch,  2  vols. 

Felix  Holt,  and    Theophrastus  Daniel  Deronda,  2  vols. 

Such,  1  vol.  Poems  and  Essays,  1  vol. 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  COMPANY,  Publishers 
254   WASHINGTON  STREET  •  BOSTON,   MASS. 


-  ^TTT.  OTsr  THE  LAST  DATE 

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This  book  on  the  date  du  fourth 

;r."    -CREASe^TO  SO^CENTS^    ^^^^^^^     ,,, 
DAY     AND    TO     $10"  ^^^^___ 

OVERDUE- 


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